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SERMON 

DELIVERED AT THE 

REV. JARED SPARKS, 

TO I 

TORAL CARE OK I 
HKST INDEPENDENT CHURCH IN BALTIMO 

MAY 5. 1819. 

BY WILLIAM ELLERY CHANGING, 

iER OF THE CHURCH OF CHRIST, IN FEDERAL STR1 K.T, BOSTON 
*v • \ 1 V 

PUBLISHED BY REQl l - 



BOSTON: 
LOTTED f.V HEWJ 

1B19. 




SERMON. 

1 THESS. V. 21. 

Prove all things ; hold fast that which is good. 

THE peculiar circumstances of this occasion not only justify, 
nut seem to demand a departure from the course generally follow- 
ed by preachers at the introduction of a brother into the sacred 
office. It is usual to ^-jM-ak of the nature, design, duties and ad- 
vantages of the Christian ministry , and on these topicks I should 
now be happy to insist, did I not remember that a minister is to be 
given this day to a religious society, whose peculiarities of opinion 
have drawn upon them much remark, and may I not add, much 
reproach. Many good mind-, many Bincere 1 am 

aware, are apprehensive that the solemnities of thi* day are to 
give a degree of influence to principles which they M and 

injurious. The fears and nnxities of such men I n spec! ; and, 
believing that they are grounded in part on mistake^ I have 
thought it my duty to lay before you as clearly as I can, some of 
the distinguishing opinions of thai c\-.\-** of Christians in oar coun- 
try, who are known to sympathize with this religi 
**"st a. !c your patience, for such a subject is not to !••• do patched 
i narrow compass. I must also ;i-k you to remember, that it i c 
xhibit in a single discourse, our mow of every doc- 
no of revelation, much less the difference! of opinion which 
e known to subsist among ourselves. I shall coonde myself to 
topicks on which our sentiments have been misrepresented, or 
which distinguish us most widelj from others. May 1 not hope 
to be heard with candour ? God deliver us all from prejudice, and 
unkindness, and till us with the love of truth and vinue. 

There are two natural divisions under which my thoughts will 
be arranged. I shall endeavour to unfold, 1st, the principles 
which we adopt in interpreting the Scriptures. Anil Sdlv, some 
of the doctrines which the Scriptures, so interpreted, seem to us 
clearly to express. 

1. We regard the Scriptures as the record of God's successive 
revelation to mankind, ami particularly of the last and most per- 
fect revelation of his will by Jesus Christ. Whatever doctrines 
seem to us to be clearly taught in the Scriptures, we receive with- 
out reserve or exception. We do not. however, attach equal 
importance to all the books in this collection. Our religion, we 
believe, lies chiefly in the New Testament. The dispensation of 
Moses, compared with that of Jesus, we consider as impe.lect, 
earthly, obscure, adapted to the childhood of the human race, a 
preparation for a nobler system, and chierly useful now as serving 
to confirm and illustrate the Christian Srriptures, Jesus Christ is 



the only master of Christians, and whatever he taught, either 
during his personal ministry, or by his inspired apostles, we regard 
as of divine authority, and profess to make the rule of our lives. 
This authority, which we give to the Scriptures, is a reason, we 
conceive, for studying them with peculiar care, and for inquiring 
anxiously into the principles of interpretation, by which their 
true meaning may be ascertained. The principles adopted by the 
class of Christians, in whose name I speak, need to be explained, 
because they are often misunderstood. We are particularly ac- 
cused of making an unwarrantable use of reason in the interpre- 
tation of Scripture. We are said to exalt .season above revela- 
tion, to prefer our own wisdom to God's. Loose and undefined 
charges of this kind, are circulated so freely, and with such inju- 
rious intentions, that we think it due to ourselves, and to the cause 
of truth, to express our views with some particularity. 

Our leading principle in interpreting Scripture is this, that the 
Bible is a book written for men, in the language of men, and that 
its meaning is to be sought in the same manner, as that of other 
books. We believe that God, when he condescends to speak and 
write, submits, if we may so say, to the established rules of speak- 
ing and writing. How else would the Scriptures avail us more, 
than if communicated in an unknown tongue ? 

Now all books, and all conversation, require in the reader or 
hearer, the constant exercise of reason ; for their true import is 
only to be obtained by continual comparison and inference. Hu- 
man language, you well know, admits various interpretations, and 
every word and every sentence must be modified and explained 
according to the subject which is discussed, according to the pur- 
poses, feelings, circumstances and principles of the writer, and 
according to the genius and idioms of the language which he uses. 
These are acknowledged principles in the interpretation of human 
writings ; and a man, whose words we should explain without ref- 
erence to these principles, would reproach us justly with a crim- 
inal want of candour, and an intention of obscurig or distorting 
his meaning. 

Were the Bible written in a language and style of its own, did 
it consist of words, which admit but a single sense, and of senten- 
ces wholly detached from each other, there would be no, place 
for the principles now laid down. We could not reason about it, as 
about other writings. But such a book would be of little worth; 
and, perhaps, of all books, the Scriptures correspond least to this 
description. The word of God bears the stamp of the same hand, 
which we see in his works. It has infinite connexions and depen- 
dencies. Every proposition is linked with others, and is to be 
compared with others, that its full and precise import may be un- 
derstood. Nothing stands alone. The New Testament is built 
on the Old. The Christian dispensation is a continuation of the 
Jewish, the completion of a vast scheme of providence, requiring 
great extent of view in the reader. Still more, the Bible treats 
of subjects on which we receive ideas from other sources, beside* 
itself; such subjects as the nature, passions, relations, and duties of 



man; and it expects us to restrain and modify its language by the 
known truths which observation and experience furnish on these 
topicks.- 

We profess not to know a book, which demands a more frequent 
exercise of reason than the Bible. In addition to the remark* now 
made on its infinite connexions, we ■ ve. that its style no 

where affects the preci-ion of science, or the accuracy of defini- 
tion. Its lane trly glowing, hold and figurative, de- 
manding more frequent departure! from the literal sense, than 
that of our own age and country. more 
continual exer tt the diii 
portions of this book, instead of b >iog confined to general troth*, 
refer perpetually to the times wheo 

of society, to modes of thin irch, 

to feelings tod oaag issed away, and without the 

know! h we are 

all times, and | 
We find, too, tint some of thei 

irit did n 
ties of their nn owleilgc ot" Iheir feelings, 

the in pre- 

parations for ui With • 

the Bible, I it our boun eason 

upon it perpetually, to com] 
ter to the spirit, too seek m the nature ol the - 

writer, hit true m ike use of 

what is known, for explaining wh a i- ufficult, md for disCOl 
new truti 

Need I descend to particular! 
mand the' exercise of reason I . le in 

which they generally speak of< observe how habitually 

ipplv to him hum i:\ pasj Recollect the 

f Christ, th it be 
sword ; that u: 

no life in us ; that we b a the 

right eye; and a rati nuinl>«T of passages equal!, d un- 

limited. Recollect the unqualified maimer m which it ■ at 
Christians, thai they possess all things, know all things 
do all things. Recollect the verbal contradiction 
and James, and the apparent 
ting, with the general doctrines and < 
extend the enumeration indefinitely ; and who doe- not 
we must limit all these passages by the known attributes ot 
ot Jesus Christ, and of human nature, and by the circumst 
under which they were written, so as to give the language a quite 
different import from what it would require, had it ben applied to 
different beings, or used in different connexions ? 

Enough has been said to -how in what sense w e of 

reason in interpreting Scripture. From a variety of possible in- 
terpretations, we select that which accord* with the nature of thr ; 



mbpct, and the state of the writer, with the connexion of tfee 
passage, with the general strain of Scripture, with the know* 
diameter nnd will of God, and with the obvious and acknowledg- 
ed laws of nature* In other words^ we believe that God never 
contradicts in one part of Scripture, what he teaches in another; 
and never contradicts, in revelation, what he teaches in his 
works and providence. And we, therefore, distrust every inter- 
pretation, which, after deliberate attention, seems repugnant to 
any established truth. We reason about the Bible precisely as 
civilians do about the constitution under which we live ; who, 
you know, are accustomed to limit one provision of that venera- 
ble instrument by others, and to fix the precise import of its parts 
by enquiring into its general spirit, into the intentions of its au- 
thors, and into the prevalent feelings, impressions, and circum- 
stances of the time when it was framed. Without these princi- 
ples of interprrt'tion, we frankly acknowledge, that we cannot 
defend the divine authrity of the Scriptures Deny us this lati- 
tude, and me must abandon this book to its enemies. 

We do not announce these principles as original, or peculiar 
to ourselves ; all Christians occasionally adopt them, not except- 
ing those, who most vehemently decry them, when they happen 
to menace some favorite article of their creed. All Christians 
are compelled to use them in their controversies with infidel9. — 
All sects employ them in their warfare with one another. All 
willingly avail themselves of reason, when it can be pressed into 
the service of their own party, and only complain of it, when its 
weapons wound themselves. None reason more frequently than 
our adversaries. It is astonishing what a fabrick they rear from & 
few slight hints about the fall of our first parents ; and how ingen- 
iously they extract from detached passages, mysterious doctrines 
about the divine nature. We do not blame them for reasoning so 
abundantly, but for violating the fundamental rules of reasoning, 
for sacrificing the plain to the obscure, and the general strain of 
Scripture, to a scanty number of insulated texts. 

We object strongly to the contemptuous manner in which 
human reason is often spoken of by our adversaries, because it 
leads, we believe, to universal scepticism. If reason be so dread- 
fully darkened by the fall, that its most decisive judgments on 
religion are unworthy of trust, then Christianity, and even natu- 
ral theology, must be abandoned ; for the existence and veracity 
of God, and the divine original of Christianity, are conclusions 
of reason, and must stand or fall with it. If revelation be at war 
with this faculty, it subverts itself, for the great question of its 
truth is left by God to be decided at the bar of reason. It is wor- 
thy of remark, how nearly the bigot and the sceptick approach.— 
Both would annihilate our confidence in our faculties, and both 
throw doubt and confusion over every truth. We honour reve- 
lation too highly to make it the antagonist of reason, or to believe 
that it calls us to renounce our highest powers. 

We indeed grant, that the use of reason in religion, is accom- 
panied with danger, But we ask any honest man to look back on 



the history of the church, and say, whether the renunciation of it 
be not still more dangerous. Besides, it is a plain fact, that men 
reason as erroneously on all subjects as on religion. W h 
not know the wild and groundless theories, wh, been fra- 

med in physical and political science ? But who ever rap] 
that we must cease to exercise reason on nature n 
cause men have erred for ages in explaining them ! 
that the passions continually, ami ion : itallv. disturb the 

rational faculty in its inquiries into revelation. The ami 
contrive to find doctrine^ in the Bible, which (avow tbeit l> 
dominion. The timid ami 
tern, and the n il, a \ isi 

vicious can find e samp bet or easei hope 

of a I 

refined contn\ e to light on d 

by vulgar handling. But tin the 1..--1 

in reli 

and general interest ; and this faculty, of coo* not to 

ligioo, nnJeei 1 it mi- 

illy. The ti a the aim it erroure, 

which bare darken that »*e are ! 

disparage oar, powers, but I cum- 

•pectly, uprightly. The worst err 
in th.a church, m It i« li j 
members hmpticit faith I 

the growth of die darkest tun. -. ■ ben t l hiKty 

encouraged bad men and enthusiasts to broach lb ir d: - 

Inven tio n s , ami to stifle the faint 1 - of reason, \>\ the 

fill W« in ij . God has 

green us a ratiooaJ md will call m to m 

may let it ileep, bui ire do 10 .u om peril ' dress- 

ed to us as rational brim;-. W, m .iv srisb, in our lloth, thai 

had given n 1 tysu limit- 

ingand inf( But inch 1 lystem would ' with 

the whole character of our present exit 

im to take revelation, u it 1 tad to interpret it 

by the help of the faculties, which it every \\l 
on which it is founded 

To the views now given, an objecn mosoory urged from 

the character of God. We are' told, thai God being infinitely 

than men, his discoveries will Burpass human reason. In a. 
i.ition from such a teacher, we ought 10 expect proportion*. 
which we cannot reconcile with one toother, and wha b in..\ 
to contradict established truths; and it becomes n not f 
or explain them away, but to believe, and adore, and to submit 
our weak and earn il n aton, to the divine word. To tbil objec- 
tion, we have two short . first, that it is impos- 
sible, that a teacher of infinite wisdom", should expose those, 
whom he would teach, to infinite errour. But if once we admit, 
that propositions, which in their literal sense appeal 1 plainly re- 
pugnant to one another, or to any known truth, are still to be lit- 



8 

ernlly understood and received, what possible limit can we set to 
the belief of contradictions ? What shelter have we from the wild- 
est fanaticism, which can always quote passages, that in their lit- 
er; 1 and obvious sense, give support to its extravagancies ? How- 
can the Protestant escape from transubstantiation, a doctrine most 
clearly taught us, if the submission of reason, now contended for, 
be a duty ? How can we ever hold fast the truth of revelation, 
for if one apparent contradiction may be true, so may another, and 
the proposition, that Christianity is false, though involving incon- 
sistency, may still be a verity. 

We answer again, that, if God be infinitely wise, he cannot 
sport with the understandings of his creatures. A wise teacher 
discovers his wisdom in adapting himself to the capacities of his 
pupils, not in perplexing them with what is unintelligible, not in. 
distressing them with apparent contradiction, not in filling them 
with a sceptical distrust of their powers. An infinitely wise teach- 
er, who knows the precise extent of our minds, and the best 
method of enlightening them, will surpass all other instructors in 
bringing down truth to our apprehension, and in showing its love- 
liness and harmony. We ought, indeed, to expect occasional 
obscurity in such a book as the Bible, which was written for past 
and future ages, as well as for the present. But God's wisdom is 
a pledge, that whatever is necessary for 21s, and necessary for sal- 
vation, is revealed too plainly to be mistaken, and too consistently 
to be questioned by a sound and upright mind. It is not the mark 
of wisdom, to use an unintelligible phraseology, to communicate 
what is above our capacities, to confuse and unsettle the intellect, 
by appearances of contradiction. We honour our heavenly 
Teacher too much to ascribe to him such a revelation. A reve- 
lation is a gift of light. It cannot thicken and multiply our per- 
plexities. 

II. Having thus stated the principles according to which we in- 
terpret the Scriptures, I now proceed to the second great head of 
this discourse, which is, to state some of the views, which we de- 
rive from that sacred book, particularly those which distinguish 
us from other Christians. 

First. We believe in the doctrine of God's unity, or that there 
is one God, and one only. To this truth we give infinite impor- 
tance, and we feel ourselves bound to take heed, lest any man 
spoil us of it by vain philosophy. The proposition, that there is one 
God, seems to us exceedingly plain. We understand by it, that 
there is one being, one mind, one person, one intelligent agent, 
and one only, to whom underived and infinite perfection and 
dominion belong. We conceive, that these words could have con- 
veyed no other meaning to the simple and uncultivated people, 
who were set apart to be the depositaries of this great truth, and 
who were utterly incapable of understanding those hair-breadth 
distinctions between being and person, which the sagacity of latter 
ages has discovered. We find no intimation, that this language 
Mas to be taken in an unusual sense, or that God's unity was a 
quite different thing from the oneness of other intelligent beings. 



We object to the doctrine of the Trinity, that it subvert! the 
unity of God. Accoiding to this doctrine, there are three infi- 
nite and equal persons, possessing: supreme divinity, called the Fa- 
ther, Son, and Holy Ghost. Each of these persons, as described 
by theologians, has his own particular consciousness, will and per- 
ceptions. They love each other, converse with each other, and 
delight in each other's society. They perform different part* in 
man's redemption, eacli having hi* appropriate office, and neither 
doing the work of the other. The Son is mediator, and not the 
Father. The Father sends the Son, and is not himielf ^ent : nor 
is he conscious, like the Son, of taking ffe*h. Here then, \se have 
three intelligent agents, possesed of different c<> 
different wills, and different perceptions.perforraing different acts, 
and sustaining different relations : ami if the* I > not im- 

ply and constitute three minds or beil ire utterly at I 

to know how three minds or be inn are t » be formed. It is differ- 
ence of properties, and acts, and COM I, which leads us to 
the belief of different intelligent beings, and if this mark fail us, 
our whole knowledge falls ; we have do proof, thai all I 
and persons in the universe are not one and the same mind. 
When we attempt to conceive of three G in do m 
more, than represent to ourselves three ag-ote, distinguti 
from each other by similar marks and pecuh u ities to those, winch 
separate the persons of the Trinity ; and when common Chris- 
tians hear these persons spoken of as com ich other, 
loving each other, and performing different acts, how can they 
help regaiding them as different beings, different minds ? 

We do then, with all earnestness, though without reproaching 
our brethren, protect against the unnatural and IMSCriptural doc- 
trine of the Trinity. " To us," as to the apostle ami the primitive 
Chistians, u there is one God, even the Father." With Jesus, 
we worship the Father, as the only living and true God.' We are 
astonished, that any man can read the New Testament, and avoid 
the conviction, that the Father alotie is God. We hear our Sa- 
viour continually appropriating this character to the Father. We 
find the Father continually distinguished from Jesus by this title. 
" God sent his Son." " God anointed Jesus." Now, how singu- 
lar and inexplicable is this phraseology, which fills the Nesv Tes- 
tament, if this title belong equally to Jesus, and if a principal 
object of this book is to reveal him as God, as partaking equally 
with the Father in supreme divinity? VV e challenge our oppo- 
nents to adduce one passage in the New Testament, where the 
word God means three persons, where it is not limited to one per- 
son, and where, unless turned from its usual sense by the con- 
nexion, it does not mean the Father. Can stronger proof bo 
given, that the doctrine of three persons in the Godhead is not a 
fundamental doctrine of ^Christianity r 

This doctrine, were it true, must, from its difficulty, singularity 
and importance, have been laid down with great clearness, guard- 

• John, 17 
2 



10 

ed with great care, and stated with all possible precision. But 
where does this statement appear ? From the many passages, 
which treat of God, we ask for one, one only, in which we are 
told, that he is a threefold being, or, that he is three persons, or, 
that he is Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. On the contrary in the 
New Testament, where, at least, we might expect many express 
assertions of this nature, God is declared to be one, without the 
letst attempt to prevent the acceptation of the words in their 
common sense j and he is always spoken of and addressed in the 
singular number, that is, in language which was universally under- 
stood to intend a single person, and to which no other idea could 
have been attached, without an express admonition. So entirely 
do the Scriptures abstain from staring the Trinity, that when our 
opponents would insert it into their creeds and doxologies, they 
are compelled to leave the Bible, and to invent forms of words al- 
together unsanctioned by scriptural phraseology. That a doctrine 
so strange, so liable to misapprehension, so fundamental as this is 
said to be, and requiring such careful exposition, should be left so 
undefined and uprotected, to be made out by inference, and to be 
hunted through distant and detached parts of Scripture, this is a 
difficulty, which; we think, no ingenuity can explain. 

We have another difficulty. Chistianity, it must be remem- 
bered, was planted and grew up amidst sharp-sighted enemies, 
who overlooked no objectionable part of the system, and who must 
have fastened with great earnestness on a doctrine^involving such 
apparent contradictions as the Trinity. We cannot conceive an 
opinion against which the Jews, who prided themselvei on their 
adherence to God's unity, would have raised an equal clamour. 
Now, how happens it, that in the apostolick writings, which re- 
late so much to objections against Christianity, and to the contro- 
versies, which grew out of this religion, not one word is said, im- 
plying that objections were brought against the gospel from the 
ooctnne ot the Trinity, not one word is uttered in its defence and 
explanation, not a word to rescue it from reproach and mistake ? 
This argument has almost the force of demonstration. We are 
persuaded, that had three divine persons been announced by the 
nrst preachers of Christianity, all equal, and all infinite, one of 
whom was the very Jesus, who had lately died on a cross, this pe- 
culiarity of Christianity would have almost absorbed every other, 
and the great labor of the apostles would have been to repel the 
continual assaults, which it would have awakened. But the fact 
is.tnat not a whisper of objection to Christianity, on that account, 
reaches our ears from the apostolick age. In the epistles we see 
not a trace «f controversy called forth bv the Trinity. 
*J?iL ]' V fl Cr Sections to this doctrine, drawn from its 

practical influence. We regard it as unfavourable to devotion, 
by dividing and distracting the mind in its communion with God. 
It is a great excellence of the doctrine of God's unity, that it offers 
finwl °r N fi ° BJECT °J 8 . u P reme ho ™age, adoration and love, one in- 
I 1 il f r - 0,1 % Be "* of Be * n S s > one original and fountain, to 
v.hom we may re fer all good, on whom ail our powers and affec 



11 

tions may be concentrated, and whose lovely and venerable nature 
uiav pervade all our thoughts. True pietj. when directed to an 
undivided Deity, hasa chasteness. a singleness, most favourable 
to religious awe, and love. Now the Trinity seN before u< three 
distinct objects of supreme adoration ; three infinite persons, hav- 
ing equal claims on our hearts ; three divine agents, performing 
different offices, and to be acknou ipped in differ- 

ent relations. And i*. it possinle, we a*k, that tiie weak and limit- 
ed mind of man can attach if»elfto thest with the same power and 
is to one infinite Father* the onlj First ( whom all 

tlie blessings of nature and redemption mi tntre and 

source f Must not devotion be distracted bj he equal and rival 
claims of three equal p< nd munt not the worship ol 

conscientious. tarbed by sppn 

lest he withhold from one or another of tl due proportion 

of homage ? 

We also think, that the doctrine of the Trinif \ 'ion, 

Dot only by joining to the Father other objects of worship, hut 
by taking from - due, 

and transferring it to the Son. Thii ii ■ 

That Jesus Ch d fnto the infinite Divii ild be 

more interesting than the Father. i> ; .lit be ex- 

.1 from histoi of hum. i 

Men want as object of worship like themselves, and 

secret of idolatry lies in this propensity. AGod v cl >thod in our 
form, and feeling our wanta and son uVstnoui w.-ik na- 

ture more strongly, than a Father in beaven, i i 
ble and unapproachable, savi purified i 

We think, too. tha iliarofficea ai as by the 

popular theology, make him the mosf atfra- 
Godhead. The Father i- the di vin- 

dicator of the 

On the other hand, the Son, the brightn< 
stands between the incensed Deity and guilty aumanitj 
his meek head to the storms, and his 

sword of the divine justice, hears our whole load of punish 

and purchases, with his blood 

heaven. Need we state the effect ol praentatious, - 

cially on common minds/or whom Christianity 

ed, and whom it seeks to bring to the Father, as the l"\ 

We do believe, that I Kering 

God, tends strongly to absorb the mind, and to draw if from 
objects, just as the human tenderness of the Virgin Mary hai 
en her so conspicuous a place in the devotions of tha chun 
Rome. We believe, too, that this worship, though attractive, is 
not most fitted to spiritualize the mind, that it awakens human 
transport, rather than that deep veneration of the moral perefect- 
tions of God, which is tha essence of piety. 

Secondly. Having thus given our views of the unity of God, I 
proceed to observe, that we believe in the unity of Jesus Christ, 
W* believe that Jesnsis one mind, one soul, one being, as truly 



12 

one as we are. and equally distinct from the one God. We com- 
plain of the doctrine of the Trinity, that not satisfied with making 
God three beings, it makes Jesus Christ two beings, and thus in- 
troduces infinite confusion into our conceptions of his character. 
This corruption of Christianity, alike repugnant to common sense, 
and to the general strain of Scripture, is a remaikable proof of 
the power of a false philosophy in disfiguring the simple truth of 
Jesus. 

According to this doctrine, Jesus Christ, instead of being one 
mind. one conscious intelligent princip!e,\vhom we can understand, 
consists of two souls, two minds, the one divine, the other human ; 
the one weak, the other almighty ; the one ignorant, the other 
omniscient. Now we maintain, that this is to make Christ two 
beings. To denominate him one person, one being, and yet to 
suppose him made up of two minds, infinitely different from each 
other, is to abuse and confound language, and to throw darkness 
over all our conceptions of intelligent natures. According to the 
common doctrines, each of these two minds in Christ has its own 
consciousness, its own will, its own perceptions. They have in 
fact no common properties. The divine mind feels none of the 
wants and sorrows of the human, and the human is infinitely re- 
moved from the perfection and happiness of the divine. Can you 
conceive of two being in the universe more distinct? We have 
always thought, that one person was constituted and distinguished 
by one consciousness. The doctrine, that one and the same per- 
son should have two consciousnesses, two wills, two souls, in- 
finitely different from each other, this we think an enormous tax 
on human credulity. 

We say, that if a doctrine, so strange, so difficult, so remote 
from all the previous conceptions of men, be indeed a part, and 
an essential part of revelation, it must be taught with great dis- 
tinctness; and we ask our brethren to point to some plain, direct 
passage, where Christ is said to be composed of two minds infi- 
nitely different, yet constituting one person. We find none. Our 
opponents, indeed, tell us, that this doctrine is necessary to the 
harmony of the Scriptures, that some texts ascribe to Jesus Christ 
human, and others divine properties, and that to reconcile these, 
we must suppose two minds, to which these properties may be 
referred. In other words, for the purpose of reconciling certain 
difficult passages, which a just criticism can in a great degree, if 
not wholly explain, we must invent an hypothesis vastly more dif- 
ficult, and involving gross absurdity. We are to find our wav out 
ot a labyrinth by a clue, which conducts us into mazes infinitely 
more inextricable. 

Surely, if Jesus Christ felt that he consisted of two minds, and 
that this was a leading feature of his religion, his phraseology 
respecting himself would have been coloured by this peculiarity. 
the universal language of men is framed upon the idea, that one 
person ,s one mind and one soul; and when the multitude heard 
this language from the lips of Jesus, they must have taken it in 
Us usual sense, and must have referred to a single soul, all which 



13 

he spoke, unless expressly instructed to interpret it differently. 
But where do we find this instruction r W here do vou meet in 
the New Testament, the phraseology which abounds in Trinita- 
rian books, and which nece§sarily grew from the doctrine of two 
natures in Jesus? Where does this divine teacher sav. This I 
speak as God, and this a* man ; this is true only of my human 
mind, this only of my divine r Where do we find in the epistles 
a trace of this strange phraseology r No where. It was not 
needed in that day. It was demanded bf the en or> of a later age. 

We believe, then, that Christ is one mind. on»- being, and I add, 
a being distinct from the one God. 1 hat Clu i»t is not the one 
God, Dot the same being u it h the Father, is a necessary inference 
from our former head, in which we saw. that t: three 

persons inOod is a fiction. Hut on to important a subject, 1 would 
add a few remarks. V that oor opponents would u 

one striking fact. Jesus, in bis preaching, contii 
God. The word v\ 
this word, ever mean hi 

he most plainly disting 1 and himself, and • 

his disciples. Hov a the 

manifestation of Christ, u God, \\a* i pi 
tianity, our adversaries musl mr. 

If we examine the past -hed front 

God, we shall see, that tlo-v r other 

being, hut seem to labour to axpn - con- 

tinually spoken ofay the 8on o) 

his powei - lod, working mira< was with 

him, iudgingjustly bee i o ou: 

beliel. he waw ..md as able ot 

himself to do oothiag. The New Testament kJUUi nith this 
language. Now we ask, what ii 
ted and intended to mal 

ined, that J (, /.to whom he was - 

ly declared to be inferior, tJ u he was sent, 

and from whom he professed to I his message and 

power ? Let it here be rememtx 
bodily form, and humble circum- 

Jesus, must all have prepared men to in?- it un- 

qualified manner, the tai 1 which his 1 wa> 

declared. Why tl tntinnally* and 

without limitation, if Jesus were md if this 

truth were an essential part of hi o f I repeat it, the hu- 

man condition and sufferings of Christ tended strongly to exclude 
from men's minds the idea of his proper Godhead ; and of COCrse, 
we should expect to find in the Sew Testament perpetual care 
and effort to counteract this tendency, to hold him forth as the 
same being with his Father,if this doctrine were, as is pretended, 
the soul and centre of his religion. We should expect to find the 
phraseology of Scripture cast in the mould of this doctrine, to 
hear familiarly of God the Son, of our Lord God Jesus, and to he 
told, that to us there is sne God, even Jesus. Bat ini"»ad ©i 



14 

this the inferiority of Christ pervades the New Testament. It is 
not only implied in the general phraseology, but repeatedly and 
decidedly expressed, and unaccompanied with any admonition to 
prevent its application to his whole nature. Could it then have 
Leon the great design of the sacred writers to exhibit Jesus as 
the Supreme God P 

I am aware, that these remarks will be met by two or three 
texts. In which Christ is called God, and bjr a class of passages, 
not very numerous, in which divine properties are said to be as- 
cribed to him. To these we offer one plain answer We say, 
that it is one of the most established and obvious principles of 
criticism, that language is to be explained according to the known 
properties of the subject to which it is applied. Every man 
knows, that the same words convey very different ideas, when 
used in relation to different beings. Thus, Solomon built the tem- 
ple in a different manner from the architect, whom he employed ; 
and God repents differently from man. Now, we maintain, that 
the known properties and circumstances of Christ, his birth, suf- 
ferings, and death, his constant habit of speaking of God. as a 
distinct being from himself, his praying to God, his ascribing to 
God all his power and offices, these acknowledged properties 
of Christ, we say, oblige us to interpret the comparatively few 
passages, which are thought to make Him the supreme God, in a 
manner consistent with his distinct and inferior nature. It is our 
duty to explain such texts, by the rule which we apply to other 
texts,in which human beings are calledGods.and are said to be par- 
takers of the divine nature, to know and possess all things, and 
to be filled with all God's fulness. These latter passages we do 
not hesitate to modify and restrain, and turn from the most obvi- 
ous sense, because this sense is opposed to the known properties 
of the beings to whom they relate ; and we maintain that we ad- 
here to the same principle, and use no greater latitude in ex- 
plaining, as we do, the passages which are thought to support the 
Godhead of Christ. ** 

1 nmtarians profess to derive some important advantages from 
their mode of viewing Christ It furnishes them, they tell us, 
with an infinite atonement, for it shows them an infinite being, 
suffering for their sins. The confidence with which this fallacy 
is repeated astonishes us. When pressed with the question, 
whether they really believe, that the infinite and unchangeable 
God suffered and died on the cross, they acknowledge that this is 
not true, but that Christ's human mind alone sustained the pains 
ol death. How have we then an infinite sufferer ? This language 
seems to us an imposition on common minds, and very deroga- 
tory to God -a justice, as if this attribute could be satisfied by a 
sophism and a hction. 

W e are also told, that Christ is a more interesting object, that 
his love and mercy are more felt, when he is received as the Su- 
preme God who left his glory to take humanity and to suffer for 
men. l hat 1 nmtarians are strongly moved by this representa- 
tion, we do not mean to deny, but we think their emotions alto- 



15 

gether founded on a misapprehension of their own doctrines. 
They talk of the second person of the Trinity leaving his glory, 
and his Father's bosom, to visit and save the world. Jiut this se- 
cond person,beingthe unchangeable and infinite God, was evident- 
ly incapable of parting with the lea^r degree of his perfection and 
felicity. At the moment of his taking il< - intimately 

p.esent with his Father as before, and equally with his Father fill- 
ed neaven, and earth, and immensity This Trinitarians ac- 
knowledge, and still they profess to he touched ami overwhelm- 
ed by the amazing humiliation of this immutable being ! ! — Hut 
not only does their doctine, when ful! trist's 

humiliation to a fiction, it almost wholly destroys the impression! 
with whicn his cross ouj;ht to he received. According to their 
doctrine. Christ was, co nparatively, no sufferera! all. It is true, 
his human mind suffered ; but this, they tell us, n iitely 

small part of Jesus, bearing no more proportion t<» his who 
turc, than a single hair of our heads I >le b "In : or, than 

a drop to the ocean. The divine mind of Christ, that which was 
moat propei ly himself, was infinitely happy, at the very moment 
of the suffering ot his humanity. Whilst hanging on the cn>s>. he 
was the happiest being in the universe, is happy BJ tin' infinite 

Father; so that his pains, compared with his felicity, were 
nothing. This Trinitarians do. and must sck now lege. It fol- 
lows, necessarily-, from the immutableneai ot the divine nature. 

which they ascribe to Christ ; BO thai their BJ Btem,justlr \ iewed, 

robs his death of interest, weakens our sympal 

ings, and is, of all others, most unfavoora love of Christ, 

founded on a sense of his - for mankind. \\ 

our own views to be vastly more affecting, especially thOM 
who believe in Christ's pre-existence. It is our belief, that 
Christ's humiliation, was real and entire, that the whole Saviour 
and not a part of him, suffered, that hi> crucifixion was a 
of deep and unmixed agony. As we stand round his cross, our 
minds are not distracted, or our sensibility weakened, by contem- 
plating him as composed of incongruous and infinitely differing 
minds, and as having a balance of infinite felicity. We rec< 
in the dying Jesus, but one mind. This, we think, rende 
sufferings, and his patience and love in bearing them, incompara- 
bly more impressive and affecting, than the system we oppose. 

Thirdly. Having thus given our belief on two great points, 
namely, that there is one God, and that Jesus Christ is a bein^ 
distinct from, and inferior to God. I now proceed to another 
point on which we lay still greater stress. We believe in the 
moral perfection of God We consider no part of" theology so 
important as that which treats of God's moral character; and 
we value our views of Christianity chiefly, as they assert his a- 
miable, and venerable attributes. 

It may be said, that in regard to this subject, all Christians 
agree, that all ascribe to the Supreme Being, infininite justicce, 
goodness and holiness. We reply, that it is very possible to 
speak of God magnificently, and to "think of him meanlv ; to apply 



16 

to his person high-sounding epithets, and to his government prin- 
ciples which make him odious. The heathens called Jupiter the 
greatest and the best; hut his history was black with cruelty and 
lust. We cannot judge of men's real ideas of God, by their gene- 
ral language, for in all ages, they have hoped to sooth the Deity 
bv adulation. We must inquire into their particular views of his - 
purposes, of the, principles of his administration, and of his dis- 
position towards his creatures. 

We conceive that Christians have generally leaned towards a 
very injurious view of the Supreme Being. They have too of- 
ten felt, as if he were raised, by his greatness and sovereignty, 
above the principles of morality, above those eternal laws of 
equity and rectitude, to which all other beings are subjected. We 
believe, that in no being, is the sense of right so strong, so omnip- 
otent, as in God. We believe that his almighty power is entirely 
submitted to his perception of rectitude ; and this is the ground 
of our piety. It is not because he is our Creator merely, but be- 
cause he created us for good and holy purposes ; it is not because 
his will is irresistible, but because his will is the perfection of vir- 
tue, that we pay him allegiance. We cannot bow before a being, 
however great and powerful, who governs tyrannically. We re- 
spect nothing, but excellence, whether on earth, or in heaven. 
We venerate not the loftiness of God's throne, but the equity and 
goodness in which it is established. 

We believe that God is infinitely good, kind,benevolent., in the 
proper sense of these words ; good in dispotion, as well as in act ; 
good not to a few, but to all ; good to every individual, as well as 
to the general system* 

We believe too, that God is just ; but we never forget, that his 
justice is the justice of a good being, dwelling in the same mind, 
and acting in harmony with perfect benevolence. By this attribute 
we understand God's infinite regard to virtue, or moral worth, 
expressed in a moral government^ that is, in giving excellent and 
equitable laws, and in conferring such rewards and inflicting such 
punishments, as are most fitted to secure their observance. God's 
justice has for its end the highest virtue of the creation, and it 
punishes for this end alone, and thus it coincides with benev- 
olence ; for virtue and happiness, though not the same, are in- 
separably conjoined. 

God's justice thus viewed, appears to us to be in perfect har- 
mony with his mercy. According to the prevalent system of 
theology, these attributes are so discordant and jarring, that to 
reconcile them is the hardest task, and the most wonderful 
achievement of infinite wisdom. To us they seem to be inti- 
mate fnemls. always at peace, breathing the same spirit, and 
seeking the same end. By God's mercv, we understand not a 
blind instinctive compassion, which forgives without reflection, 
and without regard to the interests of virtue. This, we acknowl- 
edge would be incompatible with justice, and also with enlight- 
ened benevolence. God's mercy, as we understand it, desires 
ngly the happiness of the guilty, but only through their peni- 



17 

tcnce. It ha9 a regard to character as truly as bis justice. It d( 
tttn punishment, and Buffers long, that the - nner m ry retnrn t 
dutv, bat leaves the impenitent and unyielding, to the fearful re- 
tribution threatened in G • I"- word. 

To give our views of(}od, in one word, a re in hi- par- 

ental character. \V. to bita, D >l only the name, but the 

sitions and principles of a father. We believe th.it h. 
a father"- concern for his their mi- 

ment, a father'- equity in proportioning bit commands to 
their powers, a lath i th<-ir | 

to receive the penitent, and a father 1 ! justice Pot th< 
We Look upon tin- worl I as a] i which h 

training men by I 

by means and opportunity ea i i \ ariouj \ iii 
pie, by thi i discipli 

to free and moral be mion with bio 1 tor a sublime 

and ever growing virtue in heal i 

Now we ODJ .. a hich pr< 

among us, thai they are i a great to 

these purify ing, coml 

they take from as our father i him a 

being, whoa il we would, an I whom we ought 

not to lo?e ii we could. We obj< • t, particul urly on I I, 

to that system, which ai the name <>f orth 

doxy, and which is now most industriously 

our country. Tbii lystem t- acta -. thai Go ! bi 

tence wholly depraved, 10 that under the ino< -of 

our childhood, is bidden a nature adi erse to all good,and pi 

toall evil; and it tea* hes thafl rod regards of with disple i >re 

we have acquired power to understand 

our actions. Now if there be one plain principle of moi 

h this, that we arc accountable beings, only b »ve 

con a power of knowing ami performing our duty, and 

that in as far as we want tin- power, we air incapable of -in, 
guilt, or blame. We Should call a parent a nnm-ter. who -hould 

fudge and treat his children m opposition to tin- principle ; and 
yet this enormous immorality is charged oa our Father in heaven. 
This system, also, teaches, that God selects from the corrupt 
mass of men a number to be -a\c«l. and that they are plucked, by 
an irresisible agency, from the common ruin, whilst the rest are 
commanded, under penalty of aggravated woe, to make a change 
in their character-, which their natural corruption places beyond 
their power, and are also promised pardon on conditions, which 
necessarily avail them nothing, unle-s the) are favoured with a 
special operation of God's grace, which he is predetermined to 
withhold. This mockery of mercy, this insult offered to the 
misery of the non-elect, by hollow proffers of forgiveness, com- 
pletes the dreadful system which is continually obtruded upon us 
as the gospel, and which strives to monopolize the reputation of 
sanctity. 

s 



18 

That this religious system does not produce all the effects on 
icter, which might be anticipated, we most joyfully admit. It 
is often, very often, counteracted by nature, conscience, common 
. by the general strain of Scripture, by the mild example 
ni'd precepts of Christ, and by the many positive declarations of 
God's universal kindness, and perfect equity. But still we think 
that we see occasionally its unhappy influence. It discourages 
the timid, gives excuses to the bad, feeds the vanity of the fanati- 
cal, and offers shelter to the bad feelings of the malignant. By 
shocking, as it does the fundamental principles of morality, and by 
e v I: i biting a severe and partial Deity, it tends strongly to pervert 
the moral faculty, to form a gloomy, forbidding, and servile reli- 
gion, and to lead men to substitute censoriousness, bitterness, and 
persecution, for a tender and impartial charity. We think too, 
that this system, which begins with degrading human nature, may 
be expected to end in pride ; for pride grows out of a conscious- 
ness of high distinctions, however obtained, and no distinction is sa 
great as that, which is made between the elected and abandoned 
of God. 

The false and dishonorable views of God, which have now been 
stated, we feel ourselves bound to resist unceasingly. Other er- 
rors we can pass over with comparative indifference. But we 
ask our opponents to leave to us a God, worthy of our love and 
trust, in whom our moral sentiments may delight, in whom our 
weaknesses and sorrows may find refuge. We cling to the divine 
perfections. We meet them every where in creation, we read 
them in the Scriptures, we see a lovely image of them in Jesus 
Christ; and gratitude, love and and veneration call on us to as- 
sert them. Reproached as we often are, by men, it is our conso- 
la {\ 01 } and ^PPiness, that one of our chief offences is the zeal with 
which we vindicate the dishonored goodness and rectitude of God. 

Fourthly. Having thus spoken of the unity of God ; of the 
unity of Jesus ? and his inferiority to God ; and of the perfections of 
the divine character; I now proceed to give our views of the 
mediation of Christ and of the purposes offcs mission. With regard 




inatis to rescue men from sin and its consequences, and to bring 
tni° ? l tatG ° f everlast ^ Parity and happiness. We believe, 
100, that he accomplishes this sublime purpose by a variety of 
T T ; } \ hlS mstri1ct ^s respecting God's unity, parental 
TPPl J ^ , n ?°J al g° vern m e at, which are admirably fitted to 

reci aim the world from idolatry, and impiety, to the knowledge, 
' ™ d ^edience of the Creator; by his promises of pardon 
to tiie penitent, and of divine assistance to those, who labour for 
progress in moral excellence ; by the light which he has thrown 
on the path of duty; by his own spotless example, in which the 
lowliness and sublimity of virtue shine forth to warm and quick- 
fn™? W m' aS ?," ,de , US to P erf(? xtion ; by his threatenings against 
incorrigible guilt; by his glorious discoveries of immortality ; by 



19 

■ flerin^s and death ; by that signal event, the re- 
which powerfully bore witness to rm dirine mission, a 
down to men'- future life; by \> - 

which obtains tor Df spiritual aid and I 
with which h* 
and conferring the everlasting rewar :- ful. 

We bftl e ' I desire to cone 
ion exists amon? OS, m regard to :m int« 
mediation ; I mean, in regard t«> I 

on our foi I contt ih> 

our pardon, ;is it v. 

and of giving it a j • r the in 

it pn < by leadin >rtue, 

which is i 

1 with thil 
think that tin* & rip 
death, with an emphasi 
tin- <m eol 

Condition or m< 
would il as, at l< 

by the gospel. 

Whilst, I 
I 

gratefully Bcknon 
which i-ivv n! pi re - •:■ d to bis 

death ha- :tn influ< m e in n ,|, in 

' with horr-T. \\ 
the Father meri iful, is w • 
bar; that ha \t 

nent ; that he i 
empowers him to bestow; th therin h 

tially, and eteni dlj 
that hit unborrowed, uud rived, and ui only 

fount nn of u h \ I 

which cl nee. 

L, the 

Chrisl 

guilty, and som 
committed in o 

pains of hi py human 

being er by 

the ofl V>u. ; the ense, 

DOsubstiti |]| punish- 
ment of a guilty worid, save the infinite God hi 

bgly, God took on him human nature, that! to hie 
owu justice the debt of punishment incurred by men, and might 



21) 

ena M e bin fercisfi mercy. Such is the present system. 

trine seems to carry on its front, strong marks 
surdity; and we maintain, that Christianity ought not to be 
encumbered with it, unless it he laid down in the New Testament 
fully and expressly. We ask our adversaries, then, to point to 
some plain passages where it is taught. We ask for one text, in 
which we are told, that God took human nature, that he might ap- 
his own anger towards men, or make an infinite satisfaction 
to hi< own justice 3 ; for one text, which tells us, that human guilt 
is infinite, am! requires a correspondent substitute; that Christ's 
sufferings owe tlu ; ir efficacy to their being borne by an infinite 
being ; or that his divine nature gives infinite value to the sufferings 
of the human. Not one word of this description can we find in the 
Scriptures ; not a text, which even hints at these strange doctrines. 
They are altogether, we believe, the fictions of theologians. 
Christianity is in no degree responsible for them. We are aston- 
ished at their prevalence What can be plainer, than that God 
cannot, in any sense, be a sufferer, or bear a penalty in the room 
of his creatures? liow dishonourable to him is the supposition, 
that his justice is now so severe as to exact infinite punishment for 
the sins of frail and feeble men, and now so easy and yielding as to 
accept the limited pains of Christ's human soul, as a full equivalent 
for the infinite and endless woes due from the world? How plain 
is it also, according to this doctrine, that God, instead of being 
plenteous in forgiveness, never forgives ; for it is absurd to speak 
of men as forgiven, when their whole punishment is borne by a 
substitute. A scheme more fitted to bring Christianity into con- 
tempt, and less suited to give comfort to a guilty and troubled 
mind, could not, we think, be easily invented. 

We believe, too, that this system is unfavourable to the charac- 
ter. It naturally leads men to think, that Christ came to change 
God's mind, rather than their own, that the highest object of his 
mission, was to avert punishment, rather than to communicate 
holiness, and that a large part of religion consists in disparaging 
good works and human virtue, for the purpose of magnifyingthe 
value of Christ's vicarious sufferings. In this way, a sense of the 
in Unite importance, and indispensible necessity of personal im- 
provement is weakened, and high sounding praises of Christ's 
cross seem often to be substituted for obedience to his precepts. 
For ourselves, we have not so learned Jesus. Whilst we grate- 
fully acknowledge, that he came to rescue us from punishment, 
we believe, that he was sent on a still nobler errand, namely, to 
deliver us trorn sin itself, and to form us to a sublime and heavenly 
nrfaw. We regard him as a Saviour, chiefly as he is the light, 
physician, and guide of the dark, diseased, and wandering mind. 
ao influence m the universe seems to us so glorious, as that over 
the character: and no redemption so worthy of thankfulness, as 
the restoration of the soul to purity. Without this, pardon, were 
it possible, would be of little value. Why pluck the sinner from 
beU, it a hell be lett to burn in his own breast ? Why raise him 
.o heaven, if he remain a stranger to its sanctity and love ? With 



2\ 

impression-*, we are accustomed to value the gospel, chi< 
effectual aid-, rnotives.an'd excitements to b 
and divine virtue. In this virtue, M in a common contra, we see 
all its doctrines, ,- i . that 

faith in tii > worth, and contributes notlm 

s;ilv:.t' farther than as it gee* thane doctrine*, pre< 

promises, and the whole Lift , character, infierii 
i, as tlie m the mind, ol i 

likeness of hie c< lestial excelled 

h'ifthlij Having thus of the higl 

i, that it is the tp< . or holi- 

irl I now, in the laal pla. 

'ivlineu. \\ i ■ that all I 

or In duty, and in the u 

ccording I i thai thei 

the l)L r !i 

of human nil 

than i 

tioai infused into ui without >ur own m< 

f irresisti- 
ble dmnr influence on the homan mind, moulding it into goodtsaaa, 
:i- marbh i- h< a n i ito 
n id, would aol 

than the instil 

lional amiableness ol human boni-.,'-. 

- m to d\ 

•pint : but by In- spirit. 
. e intluen 
in\ul\ in- 
ol in i 
tiblc 

nihility and the laws of our mor d nature, th it I 
chines, that tb I the blame of all e\ , thatthej 

ind inflate the fan 
ol immediate and sensible inspiration. 

1 rag the virtues, w€ g 9t tin* firet place to tl, 
W b believe, that this principle is the ofotn 

ule for union ttor, that : 

tor the insatiable desires and unlimi tuinan 

mind, and that without him, our noblest aeotimea 

i ition, hope and love, would wither and decay v »> 
thai the I id i- not only easential I bat to 

the strength and perfection -of ail the virtues; that conscience, 
without the sanction of God's authority and re justice, 

would be a weak dirc< tor ; that benevoh 

communion with his goodness, and encouraged by his -mile, could 
not thrive amidst the a - of the world; 

and that self government, without a sense of the diTine inspection, 
would hardly extend beyond an outward and partial purity. God. 



22 

as ho willy goodness, holiness, justice, and virtue^ so he if 

Gainer of virtue in the human 3011I. 

Bnl whilst we earnestly inculcate the love of God, we believe 
that great care is necessary to distinguish it from counterfeits. We 
think that much, which is called piety, is worthless. Many have 
fallen into the error, that there can be no excess in feelings, which 
have God for their ohject ; and, distrusting as coldness, that self- 
1, without which, virtue and devotion lose all their digni- 
ty, they have abandoned themselves to extravagancies, which have 
brought contempt on piety. Most certainly, if the love of God be 
that, which often bears its name, the less we have of it, the bet- 
ter, li religion be the shipwreck of understanding, we cannot 
keep too far from it. On this subject, we always speak plainly. 
We cannot sacrifice our reason to the reputation of zeal. We 
owe it to truth and religion, to maintain, that fanaticism, partial 
insanity, sudden impressions, and ungovernable transports, are any 
thing, rather than piety* 

We conceive, that the true love of God is a moral sentiment, 
founded on a clear perception, and consisting in a high esteem 
and veneration of his moral perfections. Thus, it perfectly coin- 
cides, and is in fact the same thing with the love of virtue, recti- 
tude, and goodness. You wili easily judge, then, what we 
esteem the surest and only decisive signs of piety. We lay no 
stress on strong excitements. We esteem /urn, and him only a pious 
man, who practically conforms to God's moral perfections,and gov- 
ernment, who shows his delight in God's benevolence, by loving 
and serving his neighbour ; his delight in God's justice, by being 
resolutely upright ; his sense of God's purity, by regulating his 
thoughts, imagination, and desires; and whose conversation, busi- 
ness, and domestick life are swayed by a regard to God's presence 
and authority. In all things else 1 men may deceive themselves. 
Disordered nerves may give them strange sights, and sounds, and 
impressions. Texts of Scripture may come to them as from 
heaven. Their whole souls may be moved, and their confidence 
in God's favour be undoubting. But in all this there is no religion. 
The question is, do they love God's commands, in which his char- 
acter is folly displayed, and give up to these their habits and pas- 
sions ? Without this, extacy is a mockery. One surrender of 
desire to God's will, is worth a thousand transports. We do not 
judge of the bent of men's minds by their raptures, any more than 
we judge of the direction of a tree during a storm. We rather 
inspect loud professions, for we have observed, that deep feeling 
is generally noiseless, and least seeks display. 

W e would not. by these remarks, be understood as wishing to 
exclude from religion warmth, and even transport. We honour, 
and highly value true religious sensibility. We believe, that 
ChrHtianity is mtended to act powerfully on our whole nature, on 
th » heart, as well as the understanding and the conscience. We 
conceive of heaven as a state, where the love of God will be ex- 
mto an unbounded fervour and joy ; and we desire, in our 
pilgrimage here, to drink in the spirit of that better world. But 



23 

we think, that religious warmth is only to be valued, when it 
springs naturally from an improved character, when it cornea tin- 
forced, when it is the recompense of obedience, when it is the 
warmth of a mind, which understands God by being like him, and 
when, instead of disordering-, it exalts the understanding 
rates conscience, gives a pleasure to common duti 
to exist in connexion with cheerfulness, judiciouan< 
sonable frame of mind. When we obi tiled reli- 

gious, in men whose general characti w s little refinement 

and elevation, and whose pi r with reason, we 

pay it little respect. We honour religion too much to give its 
sacred name to a feverish, forced, fluctuating zeal, which baa lit- 
tle power over the life. 

Another important branch of religion, w< e to be loi 

Christ. The - ol the work -. the spirit with 

which he executed it. and the Buffet h he bore for our 

salvation, we feel to be 

ration. \N < Bee in nature do beauty to i the 

loveliness of hia character, nor do we find on earth a I" 
to whom we owe an equal debt We read bis bistorj w ith delight, 
ami learn from it the perfection of our nature. W< 
larly touched by hia death, which was endured for our red* mo- 
tion, and by that strength of charity, which triumphed over bit 
pains. His resurrection is the foundation of our hope of immor- 
tality, lli^ intercession gireq ua boldness to draw nigh to 
throne of grace, and we look up i<> heaven with new desire, when 
we think, that if we follow him here, we shall tin is be- 

nignant countenance, and enjoy In- frien Iship for ei 

I need not express to you one \ iewa on the subject of tl 
oUnt virtues. We attach auch imporl Lhese, that we are 

sometime)- reproached with exalting them . ety. We 

gard the spirit of love, chant}, meekness, forgiveness, liberality, 
and bene, 1 . a the badge and distinction of Christians, ai 

brightest image we can bear of God, as the best proof of | 
On this Bubject, 1 need not, and cannot enlarge ; but there is 
branch of benevolence, which 1 ought not to pass over in aili 
because we think that we conceive of.il more highly and justly, 
than many of our brethren. 1 refer to the duty of candour, char- 
itable judgment, especially towards those who differ in relu 
opinion. We think, that in nothing have Christiana bo widi I 
parted from their religion, as m this particular. We read with 
astonishment and horror, the history of the church, and sometimes 
irhen we look hack on the Tires of persecution, and the zeal of 
Christians, building up walls of separation, and in giving up one 
another to perdition, we feel as it' we were r te records 

of an infernal, rather than a heavenly kingdom. An enemy to 
every religion, if asked to describe a Christian, would, with some 
show ot' reason, depict him as an idolater of his own distinguishing 
opinions, covered with badges of party, shutting his eyes on the 
virtues, and his ears on the arguments of his opponents, arrogating 
all excellence to his own sect, and all saving pow r er to his own 



24 

creed, sheltering under the name of pious zeal, the love of domi- 
nation, the conceit of infallibility, and the spirit of intolerance, 
and trampling on men's rights under the pretence of saving their 
souls. 

We can hardly conceive of a plainer obligation on beings of our 
frail and fallible nature, who are instructed in the duty of candid 
ucnt, than to abstain from condemning men of apparent con- 
scientioufiDfess and sincerity, who are chargeable with no crime 
but that of differing from us in the interpretation of the Scriptures, 
and differing, too, on topicks of great and acknowledged obscurity. 
We are astonished at the hardihood of those, who, with Christ's 
warnings sounding in their ears, take on them the responsibility 
of making creeds for his church, and cast out professors of virtu- 
ous lives for imagined errors, for the guilt of thinking for them- 
selves. We know that zeal for truth, is the cover for this usur- 
pation of Christ's prerogative ; but we think that zeal for truth, 
as it is called, is very suspicious, except in men, whose capacities 
and advantages, whose patient deliberations, and whose improve- 
ments in humility, mildness, and candour, give them a right to 
hope that their views are more just, than those of their neighbors. 
Much of what passes for a zeal for truth, we look upon with lit- 
tle respect, for it often appears to thrive most luxuriantly where 
other virtues shoot up thinly and feebly ; and we have no grati- 
tude for those reformers, who would force upon us a doctrine, 
which has not sweetened their own tempers, or made them better 
men than their neighbours. 

We are accustomed to think much of the difficulties attending 
religious inquiries, springing from the slow developement of our 
minds, from the power of early impressions, from the state of so- 
ciety, from human authority, from the general neglect of the rea- 
soning powers, from the want of just principles of criticism, and 
of important helps in interpreting Scripture, and from various oth- 
er causes. We find, that on no subject have men, and even good 
men, engrafted so many strange conceits, wild theories, and fic- 
tions of fancy, as on religion, and remembering, as we do, that we 
ourselves are sharers of the common frailty, we dare not assume 
infallibility in the treatment of our fellow Christians, or encour- 
age in common Christians, who have little time for investigation, 
the habit of denouncing and coutemning other denominations, 
perhaps more enlightened and virtuous than their own. Charity, 
forbearance, a delight in the virtues of different sects, a back- 
wardness to censure and condemn, these are virtues, which, how- 
ever poorly practised by us, we admire and recommend, and we 
would rather join ourselves to the church in which they abound, 
than to any other communion, however elated with the belief of 
t€ own orthodoxy, however strict in guarding its creed, however 
burning with zeal against imagined error. 

I have thus given the distinguishing views of those Christians 

m whose names 1 have spoken. We have embraced this system, 

not hastily or lightly, but after much deliberation, and we hold it 

no. merely because we believe it to be true, but because we 



25 

regard it as purifying truth, as a doctrine according to godliness., 
as able to " work mightily' 1 and u to bring forth fruit*" in them 
who believe. That we wish to spread it. we hare do desire to 
conceal ; but we think, that are Irish it- diffusion. 1< e re- 

gard it as more friendly to practical piety and pure morals, than 
the opposite doctrines, I earer and aoh 

of duty, and stronger motive- to its p< 
omrnends religion at once to the understanding and t ; 
because it assert-* the love!? and venerable attributes of ' 
because it tend- be benevolent *j>irit i to bis 

divided sad afflicted < Imrch, and because it < 
ef God's favour, etcept that which t 

formity to the life and pi ling in "«ir 

views to give offen their pui 

which makes us seek and In lion through the >\ 

1 now turn to the OSUal add the day. 

My friend and brother;— You are tbii 
Important duties ; to !»<• < lothed a itfa 
God did not disdain ; todevot( Iftotbatn vhich the 

hallowed lips have pn 

!. We trust, that \ ou will bring to I 
a linn purpose, a martyr's spirit, i readiness to toil Per for 

the truth, a devotion <>t* your beel 

and virtue* lhav< spoken of the doctrinee, wh 
ably preach; bul I do not mean, thai to give yours If to 

controversy. \ ou will remember, that good : 
of preaching, and will labor lienors li\ .t«. rath- 

er than skilful disputants. Be careful, lest th< 
lag a hat you deem truth, ai h and n i i 

reaentatioo, turn you aside from your great business, ivhicfa 
fix in men's minds a living conviction of the obligation, sublimity 
and happiness of Christian virtue. The best way to vindicate 
your sentiments, is to show in your pn md life, their inti- 

mate connexion with Christian morals, with a high and delicate 
sense of duty, with candour towards yotfr < . aith inflexible 

integrity, and with an habitual reverence for God. It anj 
can pierce and scatter the clouds of prejudice, it i> that of ;i pure 
example. STou air to preach a system which has nothing t< 

ommend it, but its fitness to make men better : which has no unin- 
telligible doctrine for the mystical, no ei 

natieal, no dreams for the visionary, no contradictions Un- the 
credulous, which asks no sacrifice of men's understanding, I ut 
only of the passions and vices ; and the host and only way to rec- 
ommend such a system is, to show forth its power in pui ifi it 
exalting the character. .Mv brother, may your lit i more 

loudly than your lip>. Be to the people a pattern of ail good 
works , and may your instructions derive authority from a well 
grounded belief in your hearers, that you speak from the h- art, 
that you preach from experience, that the truth which you 
dispense has wrought powerfully in your own heart, that God. and 
and heaven are not merelv words on your lips, but most af- 
4 



26 

ir mind, and springs of hope and consola- 
■ th. In all your trials. Thus labouring-, may you 

abundantly, and have a testimony of your faithfulness, not 
ir own conscience, but in the esteem, love, virtues, and 
improvements of your people. 

•thren of this church and society.— We rejoice with you in 
of this day. We rejoice in the'zeal, unanimity and 
liberality, with which you hnve secured to yourselves the admin- 
istration of God's word and ordinances, according to your own 
understanding of the Scriptures. We thank God, that he has dis- 
d you to form an association, on the true principles of Chris- 
tianity 'and of protestantism, that you have solemnly resolved to 
call no man master in religion, to take your faith from no human 
creed, to submit your consciences to no human authority, but to 
repair to the gospel, to read it with your own eyes, to exercise 
upon it your own understanding, to search it, as if not a sect ex- 
isted around you, and to follow it wherever it may lead you. 
Brethren, hold fast your Christian and protestant liberty. We 
wish you continued peace, and growing prosperity. We pray 
God, that your good works may glorify your Christian profession, 
that your candour, and serious attention may encourage our young 

or in the arduous work to which you have called him, and 
that your union with him, beginning in hope, may continue in 
joy, and may issue in the friendship and union of heaven. 

To all who hear me, I would say, with the apostle ; " Prove all 
things, holdfast that which is good." Do not, brethren, shrink 
from the duty of searching God's word for yourselves,through fear 
of human censure and denunciation. Do not think that you may 
innocently follow the opinions, which prevail around you, without 
investigation, on the ground, that Christianity is now so purified 
from errors, as to need no laborious research. There is much rea- 
son to believe, that Christianity is at this moment dishonoured by 
9 and cherished corruptions. If you remember the darkness, 
which hung over the gospel for ages; if you consider the impure 
union. which still subsists in almost every Christian country ,between 
the church and the state, and which enlists men's selfishness, and 
ambition on the side of established error ; if you recollect in 
what degree the spirit of intolerance has checked free inquiry, 

nly before, but alter the reformation ; you will see that 
t hristiamty cannot have, freed itself from all the human inven- 
tions whidi disfigured it under the papal tyranny. No. Much 
Btubble i- yet to be burnt : much rubbish to be removed ; many 
gaudy decorations, which a false taste has hung around christian- 

iost ho swept away ; and the earth-born fogs which have 
long shrouded it, must be scattered, before this divine fabric will 

before us m its native, and awful majesty, in its harmonious 

proportion,, m its mild and celestial splendours. This glorious 

reformation m the church, we hope, under God's blessing, from 

he demolition of human authority in matters of religion, from 

the fall of those hierarchies, huge establishments, general convo- 

es, and other human institutions, bv which the 



27 



minds of individuals are oppressed under the weight of numbers, 
and a papal dominion is perpetuated in the protestant church.— 
Our earnest prayer to God is, that he will overturn, and overturn, 
and overturn the strong holds of spiritual usurpation, until he shall 
come, whose right it is to rule the anode of men ; that the con- 
spiracy of ages against the liberty of chi , V be brought 
to an end; that the servile assent, so long yielded to h: 
creeds, may give place to {[liry mto the 
Scriptures; and that Christianity, thus purified fn may 
put forth its almighty energy, and prove itself, by its enoblW 
influence on the mind, to be i 
vattoa.*'' 



NOTK. 

THE author intended to add some n< course, but the v would ne- 

cessarily be more extended than tl to offer 

some remarks on the word Mystery, but can onl) I 
tion on that subject, in the ... 
He was prevented, by the limit, oftbedkeoum Iki 
terestiug topick, i odofoor Sarioor>i mt he wou! 

who wish to obtain definite 

design of Christianity, by Bishop Fowler, which t, il( , in gy^ 

son's tract*. Had 1 time, 1 should be happy to notice the principal texts adduced 
in the Jnn.tanan controversy, particularly those which m vrpolations 

or false or doubt!, or false or doubtful t, . , hn v 

7. Acts xx. 28. ITim.iii.16. Philip, i 
missed from the controversy, and they c 

they are adduced to support, be a fundamental truth of Christianity \ funda- 
mental truth cannot, certainly, want the aid of four or five doubtful pan 
ai>d Trinitarians betra) the weakness of their cause in the eagt which 

they struggle for those I have named. But I cannot enlarge. The candour ot 
the reader will excuse many omissions in a sermon, which is necessarily too lim- 
ited to do more, than give the most prominent views of a subject. 



THE CHARGE, 

BY ELIPHALE1 PORTER, D. D, 

OF ROXBURY, MASS. 



M* Dear Brother ! — Conscious, as I trust you are, of the purity of your 
motives in entering into the Christian ministry, and of the sincerity of your de- 
sires to fulfil the duties of the sacred office, and the important station into which 
you have now been publickly and solemnly inducted ; you will receive, I doubt 
net, with all readiness and seriousness of mind, the charge, which, in conformity 
trith ancient usage, and the duty assigned me, I am now to pronounce. This 
charge will be solemn, impressive, and worthy of your regard, in proportion as 
it f-hall be immediately drawn from the lively oracles of God. 

Permit me, therefore, to charge thee, before God, and the Lord Jesus Christ, 
who will judge the quick and the dead at his appearing ; Take heed to thyself, 
to the fl ?ck over which divine providence hath made thee an overseer, and to 
the ministry, which thou hast received of the Lord, to fulfil it. 

Our gracious master, you will recollect, spake a parable to this end, that men 
ought always to pray. This duty is, in a pecuiiar manner, incumbent on those 
who minister in holy things. Habitual prayer will have an important influence 
on your character and ministry. It will fortify you against the power of temp- 
tation, elevate your views, and sanctify your affections ; cherish good principles, 
desires and purposes ; strengthen and animate you in the discharge of duty ; and 
have a powerful tendency to draw down the choicest blessings on yourself, and 
on the people of your charge. To you it will belong to lead in the devotions of 
the sanctuary, and of various occasions of a more private, though not less jinte- 
restmg nature. Let this part of your ministerial dutv engage a due portion of 
your atteution and meditation, that it may ever be performed in a manner ap- 
propriate, impressive, edifying and availing. 

Preach the word ; preach the truth as it is in Jesus, holding fast the form of 
sound word., as contained in the holy Scriptures, and calling no man on earth 
master. Be instant in season and out of season ; reprove, rebuke, exhort with 
all long-suffering and doctrine. Keep back nothing, which may be profitable to 
your hearers. But let not an indiscreet, though honest zeal, to declare the 
whole counsel ot God, betray you into the error of striving about words to no 
proiit, or of seeming to be wise above what is written. Still less suffer yourself, 
through a mere afiectatiot: of superior fidelity, to indulge in uncharitable denun- 
ciation., and in announcing opinions with an air of confidence exceeding vour 
inward conviction of their truth. Imitate that teacher, who came from God, 
and in whose mouth guile was never found. In his example you will see a 

ZZ»»U // w"^ Un , Ued With perfect inte ? rit y 5 and occasional reserve, with 
unequalled fa.fhfumess to him whose messages he was sent to declare. Study to 

rithTlv H ' n ap fK° Ved T° r G ° d ' a workman *■* neede th not to be ashamed, 
rightly dividing the word of truth. 

Tin?^H thX ifi 1° Te 'i n ^ meditation > and doctrine. Intermeddle with all di- 
l Z tATf k 7 t d f H DOt f ° rsettin § however > that much «*% « a weari- 
^ h it PnJ £ i ,L here J 5 , an a PP llcati ™ too intense to be long endured, 
without endangering health, and life, and usefulness. 



X 

Urligiou a social principle 



sarj&aixw 



I'l LI\ I RF.D IS 



THE CHURCH i\ PBDERAL BTREI h»\ 

DECEMBER 10, 1^ 



WILLI A M B LLBR1 CHANNIJi 

Mi in. i 'cr»l Strret. 



hi l, a : i vurR*-. 



BOSTON : 

! I. 9f GARDNER 



1820. 

b 



SERMON. 



JAMES CHAPTER I VEKSE XXVII. 



" Pure religion and undeJUed be the Father is this^ 

to visit the fatherUu <n><l Widow* in their affliction, and to 

keep himself unspotted from the world*" 

THE question, What i- religion, cannot fail 
to interest reflecting men, not only because of its in- 
trinsick importance, bn( because of the variety of 
answers irhicfa it has received. This qneetioo can 
only be resolved by proposing another, namely. 
What is God? for by religion ire understand the 
service which is <ln«' to the Supreme Being, and this 
service must of course correspond to his nature; so 
that our views of religion will be true <>r false, in 
proportion as we understand or sustake the divine 
character* 

The religions of heathenism, amidst their vast 
iety, were generally built on ideas of the Divinity 
borrowed from earthly sovereigns. It was supposed 
that the Gfoda were swayed by a principle very simi- 
lar <o the love of praise, homage, distinction hi human 
nature) and of course the worshipper aimed to win 
their favour by gifts, outward honors, and forms of 
submission, and to soothe their anger, by means not 
not very unlike to those which were used to appease 
the irritated pride of man. Religion founded on 

these views had comparatively little power to purify 



men's minds ; although even in the darkest ages, na- 
tural conscience taught them to regard the Divinity 
as the avenger of great crimes. 

The views of God given us hj revelation and 
confirmed hy reflection, are incomparably more hon- 
orable. According to these, He is a perfect being, 
infinite, sufficient to his own happiness, and needing 
nothing from his creatures. He gave being to the 
universe, not that he might have slaves to remind 
liim of his superiority, but children to know and en- 
joy his perfections, to receive happiness from his 
fulness, to partake and testify his benevolence here 
and hereafter. The communication of good, of pre- 
sent, future, and endless good, is represented in re- 
velation as the purpose and delight of Grod ; and 
from these views it is plain, that true religion, which 
corresponds to his nature, must consist chiefly of two 
parts ; first, in cherishing those sentiments of love 
and gratitude which are due to infinite goodness, and 
secondly, in actively promoting the purposes of this 
goodness, that is, in promoting our own and others 
present and future welfare. Affectionate and grate- 
ful veneration toward God, considered as a being of 
unmixed and unbounded benevolence, and exertion 
to secure for ourselves and others all the variety and 
extent of happiness for which His benevolence cre- 
ated us, these are the two great branches of enlight- 
ened religion, the first constituting more particularly 
its inward part, the last its operation and expression 
in the life. 

In the text, the apostle is not aiming to give us 
the whole definition of religion, but to describe only 



5 

the methods of its manifestation : and these con 
pond very mwh with what I have ju-t nteted. They 
consist in doing good to others, and in doing good to 
enmlvee. u Pore and undefiled religion i- this." 
or is manifest in this, " t<> vi-if the fatherless and 
widows in their Affliction," Of to be ready to c\ 
gOOd Word and work: and al-o -to keep himself 
unspotted from the world," that if, to -linn thoM 
cesses of appetite and pension, which -tain onr hon- 
our, and rofa ns of the various and lii-heM enjoy menN 
of onr nainre. These practical views of religion are 
of infinite worth, and jn-t H far as they pn-\ail. 
they make it a blearing The n.-ln I with wh'nh 
they have been treated, and tin Hot M al w ith w hi* h 
other expressions al piety ha\e hcen exalted aho\e 
them, are anion- the worst feature- in the history of 

religion. 

From the genera] account of religion now given, 

one particular will he ieh onr present an 

lion. -Pure and nndetiled religion* we are told 

con-ists in doing gooi; for "to riril the father! 

and widows in their alH'mion." i- put bj the tpOOlli 
as a part for the whole, to express : ,|| the modes 
of beoelting mankind. From this lani w< 

learn, that religion is n social principle intimateh 
united with social duty, belonging to ijs as social 
being*; and this view of religion, I wish to in 
in opposition to a maxim, which is somewhat cur 
rent, that religion is a private affair hetw een man 
and his maker, with which his neighbonr lias no 
concern. This is | revival of the old doc trine, which 
drove men from society to worship Bod in detei 



6 

and we cannot but wonder that this error of the most 
thorough fanaticks should be espoused* by some, who 
claim superiority to vulgar prejudice. 

Religion, we are told, is a private, personal thing, 
a concern between the individual and God. His 
neighbour or the community must not meddle with 
it. Whether he have any religion or not, or a good or 
a bad one, is no one's business but his own. — Vague 
language of this kind, which carries no definite 
meaning, but gives the general idea, that a man's 
religion is a subject in which society has no interest, 
and no right to use its influence, may do much in- 
jury ; and in opposition to it, 1 would maintain that 
religion is eminently a social principle, entering into 
social life, having ( most important bearings on the 
public weal, and that society has a deep concern in 
it, and cannot without violation of what is due to 
itself overlook or disparage it. The social charac- 
ter of religion is not sufficiently regarded, and is the 
topick on which I beg to enlarge. 

And in illustrating this, I would first observe, 
that religion is founded in our social nature, and 
springs from our social relations. Your religion, you 
say, is a private concern, with which no one has any 
thing to do but yourself. But whence did you ob- 
tain it? Was it born with you? Did you bring it 
with you into life? No. In an important sense, it 
is the gift of society. You received it from parents, 
and still more from the community; for did not 
Christianity flourish in the community, were it not 
made visible by publick institutions and continu- 
al observances, how few of us would possess it, 



We are religious, because we in soc ial beings. How 
do we form idea- of the attribute* of Bod, particu- 
larly of his goodness and equity, those chief foun- 
dations of religion, but bv 5 them manifested 
in our fellow creatures, and in social life? And 
om- affe< dons towards God, mk li a> love, gratitude, 
esteem, an in the first instance called forth towards 
fellow beings; and thus is 1 ht- school in 
which the hearl Lb trained for the Creator. It d 
thus he s.iid with strict truth, thai all our religion 
comes to us through our social connections, is a 
growth and fruit of B0< ial life. The conununitj 
then cannot Inii influence it. cannol Leave the indi- 
vidual t<> himself in forming bis religion. 

2. Religion is .» social concern, for it is a snit- 

je< t on which men have a strong hudem \ to fed 
and act together, and thus it is m strong bond of 

union. Religion is not a secret to be lot ked up in 
our own hearts, but a sentimenl t < » be communics 
shared, strengthened bv sympathy, and enjoyed in 
common with all: and this results from its very 

nature: for who is God, the -rial objed of this 

principle? Is he the Father of this or that individu- 
al only? or the Father and head of thai great family 
of which everv individual i- a member? If other men 

have the same interest in this Bread Being, and (lie 
same relation to him with myself, if God he a com- 
mon objed and centre to their souls and mine, then 
we possess ill him a strong bond of union to one 
another. Religion has always manifested its social 
nature, by encouraging associations for the utter 
mice and strengthening of its feelings. In all na- 



8 

tiottfl men have come together for religious purposes, 
and especially under Christianity, some of the strong- 
est attachments have their root in reverence for the 
Supreme Being. Thus religion is a social concern, 
being one of the strong bonds of a community. 

8. Religion is a social and publick as well as 
a private concern, because the common relation of 
(rod to all men, is not merely, as we have just stated, 
a ground of sympathy and attachment, but makes it 
a duty to offer him publick, and the most publick ac- 
knowledgments. It is not enough to worship God 
in private ; for this is an acknowledgment of him 
only as a private benefactor. There ought to be acts 
and offerings, corresponding to a higher view of him, 
I mean, to his publick character, to his relation of 
universal Father and Lord. Nature and duty prompt 
us to render publick acknowledgments to publick 
benefactors, to sovereigns, and rulers of whole com- 
munities ; and of consequence, Society, being God's 
work and kingdom, and deriving all its happiness 
from him, is bound to publick recognitions of him ; 
and without these, his true character, that which 
clothes him with majesty, his universal dominion, is 
not acknowledged and impressed. There is the 
same foundation for social as for private religion ; for 
God is the author of society as truly of the individ- 
ual, and his greatness and goodness are chiefly con- 
spicuous in the former ; and therefore Society ought, 
through its great organ and representative, which is 
government, as well as by other methods, to pay hom- 
age to God, and express its obligations. 

4. Religion is a social concern, for it operates 



powerfully on sor icty ; contributing in various ways 
to its liability and prosperity. Religion is not merely 
a private affair : the community is deeply interested 
in its diffusion, for it is the best rapport of the 
virtues and principle* on which social order re~ 
Pure and undcfiled religion, according to the text, 
is to do good: and it follows VOTJ plainly, that if 
God he the author and friend lien the 

recognition of him must enforce all social duty, and 
enlightened piety mm it- irhok fttongth lo 

the ( aase of | » 1 1 1 » I i < order* 

Wtm men suspei t, perhaps no man comprehends, 
the extent of the supp iligion to every 

\irtne. No man perhaps is aware, how mm h our 
moral and social >«tiiimtnu are fed from this foun- 
tain: BOW powerless conscience would become with 
out the belief of a God; how palsied would be hu- 
man benevolence; were there not th" sense of a 
higher benevolence to qnicken and sustain it: how 

suddenly the whole SOCial fahrh U would quake, 
and with what a fearful crash it would *ink into 
hopele^< mins, were the Ideal of a Supreme Being 
of accountable] id of a future life, to he ut- 

terly erased from every mind. Once let men 
thorough believe that they are the work and 
sport of chance : that no superior intelligence con- 
cerns itself with human affairs; that all their im- 
provements perish forever at death : that the weak 
have no guardian, and the injured no avenger; that 
there is no recompen>e for >a< ritices to uprightn 
and the public good : that an oath is unheard in 
Heaven ; that secret crimes have no witness but the 
2 



10 

perpetrator ; that human existence has no purpose, 
and human virtue no unfailing friend; that this brief 
life is every thing to us, and death is total, everlast- 
ing extinction; once let men thoroughly abandon 
religion, and who can conceive or describe the extent 
of the desolation which would follow? We hope 
perhaps that human laws and natural sympathy 
would hold society together. As reasonably might 
we believe, that were the sun quenched in the hea- 
vens, our torches could illuminate, and our fires 
quicken and fertilize the creation. What is there in 
human nature to awaken respect and tenderness, if 
man is the unprotected insect of a day ? and what 
is he more, if atheism be true ? Erase all thought 
and fear of (rod from a community, and selfishness 
and sensuality would absorb the whole man. Ap- 
petite knowing no restraint, and poverty and suffer- 
ing having no solace or hope, would trample in scorn 
on the restraints of human laws. Virtue, duty, 
principle, would be mocked and spurned as unmean- 
ing sounds. A sordid self interest would supplant 
every other feeling, and man would become in fact, 
what the theory of atheism declares him to be, a 
companion for brutes. 

It particularly deserves attention in this discus- 
sion, that the christian religion is singularly important 
to free communities. In truth we may doubt whether 
civil freedom can subsist without it. This at least we 
know, that equal rights and an impartial adminis- 
tration of justice have never been enjoyed where 
this religion has not been understood. It favors free 
institutions, first, because its spirit is the very spirit 
of liberty, that is, a spirit of respect for the interests 



11 

and rights of others. Christianity recognizes tin- 
essential equality of mankind : heats down with its 
Whole might those aspirin- and rapacious princi- 
ples of our nature, whicfa have subjected the many 
to the few ; and by its refining influence, 10 well 
by direct precept, turns to God, and to Him only, 
that supreme homage which has hern so impiously 
lavished on crowned and tilled fellow (realm 
Thus lis whole tendency 11 free. It lays deeply 
the on/// foundations of liberty, which are the princi- 
ples of benevolence, justice, and reaped for human 
nature. The spirit of liberty is not merely, as mul- 
titudes imagine, a jealousy of tmr own particular 
rights, an unwillingness to he oppr ess ed ourselves; 
but a respect for tin rights of others, and an unwil- 
lingness that any man. whether hlgfa Of low. should 
be wronged, and trampled under foot. Now this IS 
the spirit of Christianity : and liberty has DO security, 
any farther than this uprightness and benevolence of 
sentiment actuates 1 1 ommunit] . 

In another method, religion befriends liberty. 
It diminishes the necessity of publics: restraint-. 
and supersedes in 1 great degree the use of fosos 

in administering tin' laws ; and thi- it does, by ma- 
king men a law to themselves, and by repressing 
the disposition to disturb and injure society. Take 
away the purifying and restraining influence of reli- 
gion, and selfishness, rapacity and injustice will 
break out in new excesses : and amidst the in- 
creasing perils of society, government must be 
strengthened to defend it, must accumulate means of 
repressing disorder and crime ; and this strength and 



12 

these means may be and often have been turned 
against the freedom of the state which they were 
meant to secure. Diminish principle, and you in- 
crease the need of force in a community. In this 
country, government needs not the array of power 
which you meet in other nations, no guards of sol- 
diers, no hosts of spies, no vexatious regulations of 
police ; but accomplishes its beneficent purposes by 
a few unarmed judges and civil officers, and operates 
so silently around us, and comes so seldom in con- 
tact with us, that many of us enjoy its blessings with 
hardly a thought of its existence ; and this is the 
perfection of freedom ; and to what do we owe this 
condition? I answer, to the power of those laws 
which Religion writes on our hearts, which unite and 
concentrate publick opinion against injustice and 
oppression, which spread a spirit of equity and good 
will through the community. Thus religion is the 
soul of freedom, and no nation under Heaven has 
such an interest in it as ourselves. 

Religion then appears to be a social concern ; 
the community rests upon it. It is not a private af- 
fair. My neighbour, my family, and society, are in- 
terested in my possessing religious principle, and in 
its widest possible diffusion. The public as well as 
the individual have much to do with the individual's 
religion. 

The first inference, to be made from this discus- 
sion is, that it is a right and duty in men to influence 
one another on the subject of religion. If religion 
be a social principle and a main foundation of social 
happiness, then it ought to engage men's efforts. It 



13 

is not a concern, in which every man is to he left t<> 
himself, and is to do nothing for others ; hut each 
according to his ability is to promote and spread it 
around him. On all other subjects men operate pow- 
erfully on one another* Bands : and why should re- 
ligion he an exception, when this i> one of the chief 
interests of human nature? 

Thesecond inference IS, thai if individual* are au- 
thorized and hound to promote religion, then the BAM 
right and obligation appertain to the community. 
God, we have §een i* the anther of Society, and a 
sense of this Breal Being it it- itreagth* support, 

and the life of ils freedom : ami shall in»t then a 

community, as mi h. a« -know ledge Ood, and provide, 
as far ai it bar power En spreading i reverence hr 

liis authority? If it he a principle I -learl\ M-nlrd hv 
experience, that rhrUtianit y tend* powerfnlU to 

poblick order and aappuwea, nrhj ihall not the 

community pnu ii< illy adopt and art on thi*, as w.dl 

as on other great truth* \\hi< h time haa confirmed? 

It is sometime* said, "Religion want* no aid 
from the communis : ii id able to take Gait of it- 
self/' You might joat ai reaaonahh say, that 
ligion does not need the aid of parent*, the aid of 
men of ability, the aid of asso< iations for extending 
it. Religion was not meant to he strong enough 
to flourish and spread without human agency. It 
is intended to live and he perpetuated by great 
labour and care. It does not extend itself; but 
man communicates it to man. Now the question is, 
has not a community power to diffuse and continue 
it, as well as individuals? May uot society act 



14 

beneficially far religion through its government? If 
90, w by shall it not use this power as well as indi- 
viduals especially when it rests so much on this 
foundation. 

It is said, "this cause may be safely left by 
the state to individuals." But it is not wise for a 
community to leave to private discretion any great 
interest, in which its safety is involved. We might 
with much greater propriety say, that education 
should be left to individuals ; for the^ parental in- 
stinct is much stronger and more extensive than 
religious zeal. It should also be remembered that 
religious instruction is particularly needed for those 
classes of society who can least afford to provide it 
for themselves, and whose hard and unequal lot 
begets discontents and temptations which religion 
only can subdue. Ought not a community to pro- 
vide for these the administration of that divine 
truth, which not merely restrains but exalts the 
poor, and makes them at once good citizens here, 
and heirs of future happiness. 

But we are told, that the interference of the 
state with religion has been pernicious, politicians 
having made it an instrument of ambition, and thus 
weakened and degraded it. This is too true. The 
statesman has often leagued with the priest to break 
men's minds, and defraud them of their rights. But 
because religion has often been abused and degraded 
by the state, can it never be assisted by it, and em- 
ployed for the promotion of public virtue? Because 
under despotisms and in dark ages, religion was per- 
verted into an engine of ambition, does it follow 



15 

that fr/ree and improved community may not safely 
intrust to elected rulers the power of providing re- 
ligious instruction for the support of public morula? 
Does not the immense difference of the circu in- 
stances ensure a different result? Are wr asked, 
what pledge we have against the abuse of this 
power in the legislature, against the erection of an- 
other spiritual despotism? I answer, what security 
have we for any or all our institutions? What 
pledge that every other power given to ruins will 
not be abused? The great and only security U to be 
found in the spirit of the community, in the light of the 
age; and this light renders it absolutely impossible, 
that the representatives of ■ Bree people should aim 

now to build up a spiritual tvranny or to revive I 
ploded superstitions. We read history to little pur- 
pose, if we suffer ourselves to be frighted by the 
abuses of early stages of society from availing our- 
selves of all the springs of a nation's happiness. 

Let me (lose this discourse with some remarks 
on what seem (o me the principal grounds OT caUfi 
of the opinion, which I have opposed, that govern- 
ment has nothing to do with religion. It springs 

from narrow views of the purposes of government, 

and from narrow views of the nature of religion. — 
There are those, and perhaps not a few. who con- 
sider government as instituted chiefly for the lower 
purposes of our existence, for man considered as an 
animal, for the protection, support and accommoda- 
tion of the animal life. >iow government corres- 
ponds to the whole nature of man : is instituted for 
him as an intellectual, social, moral and religious 



16 

being; and is intended to protect and advance all the 
great interests of humanity. It acts for its legitimate 
purposes, when it watches over domestick life, and 
uteri* and enforces the sanctity of the marriage 
bond ; when it watches over intellect and education, 
and furnishes means for developing all the faculties 
of the mind ; when it encourages benevolent institu- 
tions, and through these and other methods spreads 
abroad charity. It acts for its legitimate purposes, 
when it frowns on profaneness, lewdness and inde- 
cency ; and discourages crimes, which injure society 
chiefly by weakening moral and religious sentiment, 
and degrading the character of a people. Govern- 
ment is a high and venerable institution, an engine 
of immense moral power, which in all ages lias 
greatly contributed to fix the character of nations. 
Its true spirit is that by which (rod reigns, an enlar- 
ged and impartial regard to the general good ; arid all 
its laws, as far as they are wise, are only particular 
applications of those great principles of justice and 
benevolence, which form the character of God, and 
enter into the very essence of piety. Government is 
throughout a moral and religious institution, and 
intended to operate on men, not merely through 
force, but much more through moral and religious 
principle. It is a broad and sublime institution, 
concentrating the power of a state for the protection 
and promotion of its highest interests, such as its 
freedom, industry, intelligence, domestick fidelity, 
general charity, pure morals, and piety. 

It is from low and narrow views of government, 
that men would exclude it from influencing religion, 



17 

and it is from equally narrow views of religion, that 
they would sever it from government. Religion is 
often thought to he chiefly intended iu promote men'- 
future happiness hy a round of rites, services and 
feelings, which have little or no relation to the pres- 
entMfe; when in truth it is designed to guard, adorn 
and hless our ichole existence : to mix v% ith all our 
present relations : to be a law to the ruler, a prin- 
ciple of obedience in the subject, a curb on the 
passions, which afflict and endanger society; and so 
to direct men's power-, pursuits and acquisitions 
whether of wealth or intelligence, as to form i pure, 
noble and happy community. Christianity as truly 
tends to present as future godd : it perfectly coin- 
cides with government in it- -pint and ends, only 
differing in its greater comprehension and extent. 
There is no such repugnance between them a- many 
imagine. They have not separate objects and fields 
of action. Man is the object ofboth, and his happi- 
ness and virtue their common ends : and it i- tit and 

reasonable, that in promoting these end-, they should 
aid and encourage each other. 

The narrow views of government and religion. 

which I have endeavoured toexpose,have spruhgvery 

naturally from the gross abuses of past ages, from the 
frequent coalitions of church and state for the oppres- 
sion of the subject To prevent these evils, some 
among us seem to have resolved, that government and 

religion shall not touch one another iu a single point. 
but shall have totally separate spheres and agencies. 
Religion shall not enter the hall of legislation; nor 
shall legislation give support to one column of the 



18 

» ,• • Tkna all the ideas of venerable- 

; erecl from them: nor must religion be strength 
ec bv any testimonial of the commnmty to its 
ZLl and excellence, by any grateful offering 
£TZ state which it upholds. This attempt to 
divide the great powers which advance human hap. 
pines* is like striving to separate the elements of 
!he natural world, and insisting that each shall act 
by itself, in its own exclusive region. Men forget 
that all human interests are blended and must be 
advanced together; and that the highest good of 
society is to spring from the joint action of all the 
causes, which operate beneficially on human nature. 
I have thus aimed to show that religion is a so- 
cial concern ; that it is not the private, distinct, and 
narrow thing, which a superficial philosophy is dis- 
posed to make it, but an all-pervading power and 
spirit, the friend and guardian of individuals, fam- 
ilies, and states. A community, once convinced of 
this great truth, is bound to incorporate it into its 
publick institutions, and to secure, if possible, to all 
its citizens, the benefits of christian worship and 
instruction. In regard to the methods by which 
these objects should be accomplished, I cannot en- 
large, even if 1 were competent to the office. I would 
only observe, that the free spirit of our constitution, 
which secures to each citizen the election of the 
particular form of Christianity to which be will give 
support, is of primary importance, and is demanded 
by that fundamental principle of a free government, 



19 

lhat no restraint is to he imposed, which dn 
not plainly conduce to the public <$ood. 11 to this 
could he added some provisions, ensuring impartial- 
ly and universally contributions proportioned to 
the ability of the individual, tin would dis- 

charge in a great degree its duty in relation to 
religion. But this subject T leave to wiser and 
nnue experienced minds, in the hope and trust, that 
as a Community, we shall continue to acknowled 
God, (lie Author of Society, and the Source of our in- 
estimable public blessings; and that we shall continue 
to give support to that Religion, for whi< b our an. 
tors encountered the perils of the wilderness, ami 
subdued a rugged soil : which Diingled with, conse- 
crated, and bound together, all their social insti 
tious : and under which, this Commonwealth Mill 
Furnishes an example of prosperity, of intelligent «'. nl' 
persevering and adventurous industry, of public order 
and private virtue, which perhaps ha- not been often 
rivalled, and certainly ha- seldom been surpassed, 

in the histors of nation-. 



A SERMON 

DELIVERED AT THE ORDINATION OF THE 

REV. WILLIAM HENRY FURNESS, 

AS PASTOR OF THE 

FIRST CONGREGATIONAL 

IN PIIILADLLIMU 

BY HENRY WARS, Ji 



10(.II!1! it w 

THB OHARG k, 

\|{-)\ BA1 

v\i> THE 
RIGHT HAM) OF FELLOWSHIP 



PHILADELPHIA : 

■ 






SERMON- 



brethren, pray for us, thai the word of the Lord may 
have free court* and be glorified even as it is among 
you. — 2 Thessalonians, iii. 1. 

Thi design for which the public institutions of our 
religion are maintained and itfl :»;i". i> M 

well expressed in these words, thai they offer ■ suitable 
introduction to our remarks on the present occasion. 
They declare the object which we purpose to promote, in 
Ordaining our brother to the work of the holy mini 
Thrv describe the end for which he ii t«> labour in the 
fulfilment of his ministry. They express thai spirit of 
devout dependence upon God, which should occupy the 
hearts of those who are this day to 
•Brethren," says the spostle, 1 'pray for US, 1 the minis- 
ters of Christ, 'that the word of the Lord' — that word, 
which we preach, which is God's ♦ruth, and the Morti- 
fication of man — ' mav have free course and be irlorified' 
— may have a wide and unobstructed prevalence, and 
be an object of the admiration, affection, and faith of 
mankind. 

This is the object of our prayers and labours. This 

is the object to which we devote our brother. It mav 

not be unsuitable to the occasion, to remark on some of 

the means by which this object may be effected : which I 

B 



mpt to do under the two divisions suggested 

by the text. 

" 1. 1. In the first place, the circulation of the scriptures 
ii b powerful means of effecting this object. They are, 
De sense, the word of God, though not in the sense 
of our text, as the New Testament did not exist at the 
time of the apostle's writing this epistle. This volume 
is the repository of those facts and instructions on which 
the whole system of our religion rests. The more 
widely, then, it is known, and the more carefully it is 
studied, the more generally will religious truth prevail; 
and if any errors have been mingled with it in its pas- 
sage down to the present age, the more readily will they 
be removed. One chief cause of error is want of know- 
ledge. Men uphold false systems, because they are ig- 
norant of the true. And the great book of truth cannot 
be familiarly in the hands of all, exercising its rightful 
influence over minds and hearts, and yet the dominion 
of error and falsehood stand. The evil at present is, 
that the scriptures are neither sufficiently read, nor 
with sufficient freedom. The many still pay too great 
deference to their theological standards and religious 
superiors, and to the impressions of early years. They 
suppose that they know their religion already, and there- 
fore, either do not study the bible at all, or they study 
it for some other purpose than that of learning. So that 
the light of truth is prevented from reaching their un- 
derstandings and hearts, either by closing the volume 
which contains it, or by closing their eyes, when the 
volume is opened. Whatever is done then, toward pro- 
moting the frequent, studious, intelligent perusal of the 
sacred volume, is so much for the advancement and 
influence of the Gospel; and as it was the bringing out 
of the scriptures from their hidden places, which shook 
power of the Papal throne; so it is the thorough 



removing of the veil from them, and introducing then 
freely and fe to the undei 

which shall ensure the dominion of the con- 
glorious Gospel. 

2. The. prevalence of religion is to be C 
maintenance of Public Wqrshipj 
ticularly to be noticed, as i principal i 

which christiai 

incalculable, 
but for a moment, thai 

other and that no in ng and i 

tuating knowledge, and the infloi 

been devised, to be compared with 
ship among 
different thing ; \'>n- it \ miliar, bi 

SOnal, and abu\e all, it 
struction concerni 

of a high i 
- with its opulence and pomp, bat 
in with the intelh 

to their interests, feelii 
its po r individual p. It meets tin- 

people in all their litth 
inten 

maintains an unintermil 
timents and habit 

should no | 1( |v, unii 

ration, must act upon the moral world, like the quiet 
and equal warmth of the sun upon 
tran. The action id* 01 

but the constant and permanent action works won. 
Men are sometimes led, doubtinglj, to complain, that 
no greater effects are witnessed. ,ould con- 

that this institution of a vast and cxten 



sive machine, operating on an immense scale. A single 
congregation is but one of the little wheels in the com- 
plicated arrangement, and may seem to move on with- 
out bringing much to pass. We must survey it in its 
connexion with the whole. We must think of this ac- 
tion as exerted upon a whole people, and as going on 
from year to year, and from generation to generation. 
We must consider what society would be without it. 
Level with the ground your places of social worship. Let 
the voice of the preacher be hushed. Let the people be 
no more collected to hear of their duties to God and to 
one another. Let the seventh day be undistinguished 
— no respite from the vain pleasures and passionate bus- 
tle of worldly pursuits ; no intermission of the eager 
chase of enjoyment and gain ; but from year to year, 
generation after generation, let the whole community be 
given up to temporary interests, unreminded of God 
and eternity. It is easy to conjecture the religious ig- 
norance and moral desolation that would ensue, and 
how rapidly the march would be taken backward to the 
melancholy condition of the heathen. What reflecting 
man is not aware, that a large portion of the Christian 
community have no knowledge of their religion, except 
what they gain from the weekly services of God's House. 
They are excited to read the scriptures only by the im- 
pulse which is given there. And therefore the institu- 
tion of public worship is thafwhrcti sustains among men, 
certainly the salutary influence, and probably the very 
existence, of Christianity itself Without this indeed, 
it might be known to the studious and inquiring, just as 
the systems of Plato and the Stoics : but its blessings 
would not be diffused, nor its holy and rejoicing light 
be shed upon the dwellings, and poured into the hearts 
©fits now countless votaries 
There is a striking illustration of the truth of these 



remarks in the history of the Jewish people. That peo- 
ple, although the selected nation of God, acquainted 
familiarly with a law which had been revealed under 
circumstances the most imposing and impi i very 

step of their existence marked with the most surpris- 
ing displays of the divine presence and power; pees 
ing a temple and a ritual which surpassed in magnifi- 
cence the most splendid institutions of the heathen 
world; — yet were not restrained from constant prone- 
ness to other religions, and frequent relapses into idol- 
atry. Observe tin; cause of this. The sacrifices could 
be offered but at one spot. Their place of public as- 
sembling was but at one city; to which indeed all the 
men were compelled to resort three times a year; but 
only three times, and they became not very scrupulous 
for more than one attendance, while the srofneo 
children were not bound to attend at all. It there- 
fore happened that the inhabitants on the dii 
borders derived no satisfaction from the pompous 
ceremonials of their law, of which tiny were scarcely 
witnesses or partakers : tie or to the 

altars of the Gentiles than to their own, better acquaint- 
ed with their worship, and therefore MSll? drawn into 

\fter their long sufferings in the captiv it \ 
Ion, they erected ! q all their liUages, col- 

lected in them for reading and expounding the law 
every sabbath day, and being thus perpetually intei 
in their own religion, were no longer attracted bv that 
their neighbours. 

It is evident, therefore, brethren, how much is due 
to the institution of public worship. Whenever you 
assemble here with those who keep holy time, you are 
giving essential aid to the cause of divine truth and 
human happiness. There is said by philosophers to be 
such a connexion between the distant spheres of the ma- 



terial system, that no impulse or motion can be felt by 
one without the participation of all ; so that even the 
fal!in°- of a stone to the earth, creates a concussion 
which is recognised and answered in the remotest star. 
There is a connexion not unlike this, between the differ- 
ent bodies that compose the Christian system on earth. 
The operation of each is necessary to that of the whole ; 
the hindrance of one is the hindrance of all. When 
you bind yourselves by a vow to-day to labour with your 
pastor for the regular maintenance of the social insti- 
tutions of our faith, you are doing what affects the 
Church universal of our Lord, and is recognised in that 
distant world where the angels rejoice over every re- 
penting sinner. And whenever, by neglect, or contempt, 
or absence, you think merely to testify your dislike of 
a poor preacher, or your love of an afternoon's repose, 
you in fact do all, which you can do, to destroy the influ- 
ence of the Gospel in the world ; — which, if all should 
follow your example, would soon eradicate its very- 
existence. 

3. Intimately connected with public worship, so that 
indeed we can hardly separate it even in thought, is the 
next means which I shall mention of spreading the influ- 
ence of religion,— namely, Preaching. This is the great 
divinely appointed instrument of truth and salvation. 
It pleases God, by the foolishness of preaching, to save 
them who believe. Without this, public worship, as 
may easily be observed, would lose its chief efficacy as 
a moral means, and the Bible would soon cease to be the 
most common and powerful of books. 

"W e cannot but admire the wisdom which made this 
happy provision for the perpetuity of religious know- 
ledge. Simple and efficacious as it is, the Founder of 
Christianity appears to have been the first to discern in 
it that moral power, which should move and control the 



9 

world. Other religious teachers and reformers had in- 
structed orally, but it was in schools and groves, a select 
number, and for a limited time. Jesus was the teacher 
of man. He addressed himself to the multitude. He 
adapted himself to every condition and character. He 
spoke as the reformer, the lead* -;id, of the hu- 

man race; and hi3 "gracious words*' wert forth through- 
out the whole mass of society, and changed the moral 
complexion of the world. His mi re au- 

thority to his doctrine; but it i 
:ht the chai ge. Ili> lup 
the faith that he 

which co'; . 
in thai ictly 

I, as in hi 
command should call I tomb, 

and that prea< 
civil il 
the presence and power of ' 

>r un- 

ler of th ii on 

earth, who map 

of the world — laid th< found 

survive the changes of empire, and the mini of the philo- 
sophies and reli 
to make provision ichan ef- 

Other teacbe committed tl.eir -. 

writing, lest, being en e but 

breath, t. But J 

fideil in the divi th an 

unconcern truly sublim ibroad to make itl 

and perpel proof 

e knew it to be from God. -d. Hu- 

man instructor- and reformers have elaborately wvc 



10 

out their systems ; have sometimes clothed them in 
eloquence which seemed little less than inspiration, and 
promised perpetual continuance to their influence over 
man. Yet how small and short has that influence proved! 
How have their sects disappeared; and by how very few 
are their works even read, though still accounted among 
the perfect productions of the human mind ! While 
Jesus, uninstructed in human philosophy, with no attain- 
ments in the elegant learning of the world, teaching 
but for three years, and putting not a syllable upon 
record — has yet made his instructions as familiar to 
the nations as their own native tongues — has bestowed 
on the humblest of his followers a wisdom superior 
to that of the Grecian masters themselves — nay, has 
affected the whole mass, both of sentiment and cha- 
racter, throughout the whole, as those great and labo- 
rious and long lived men were able to affect only a few 
familiar friends within the privileged sphere of their 
own personal influence. 

By what means was this done ? It was through the 
institution of preaching. He sent forth his followers to 
do as he had done, — to spread and transmit his religion 
by personal intercourse with men — to talk with them of 
God and their souls as a man talks with his friend — to 
come near to their understandings and hearts by address 
in familiar speech, by thrilling tones of voice, by earnest 
gesture, by the appealing eye and the eloquent coun- 
tenance—by that living and breathing instrument of 
communication which God has made, as much more 
powerful than the dumb register of written words, as 
the creation of God is higher than the invention of man. 

They thus went abroad, miracles attesting their com- 
mission, but with no learning or accomplishments be- 
yond what their Master had given them, with the sim- 
ple but sincere and pathetic history of his life and teach- 



11 

u/g; — and the temples of false religion, the ah 

immoralities of heat!, -tition 

vanished before them, and upon 

their ruins. J 

from And the efficiency of th - 

lias perhaps in no way been 
than in the fact, that tM 

and declined with their rise and 1 has 

iwei and e 
action ; be< ame bi 
! i ; — and 
devoted th< 

the K ; 

and if these living 

the omnipotent e ol the 

and its moral influe 

r i«» what a 
this d 
to wield, and what an ui 

l 
of the 

gth to do . lid, and honour vou with I 

I the 
and his 

'lie Ordii - i our faith. v > m of 

>n can exl prevail, which is not aided bv 

Id on the inferior nature of nun. 



12 

spiritual, addressed to a being not purely spiritual, will 
seldom find access except by external accompaniments, 
which are more needful to^ some minds, but in some 
measure are needful to all. And it is observable respect- 
ing the ordinances of the Gospel, that besides the ordi- 
nary efficacy attributable to stated rites, they have the 
weight of an historical testimony to the truth of the 
religion itself: they are in the nature of monuments 
erected to the memory of its early facts, to which the 
very circumstance of their existence is incontrovertible 
evidence. They are perpetual vouchers for the truth 
of our religion; and by discontinuing them, you silence 
the venerable witnesses, which have existed from the 
day of our Lord, bearing testimony through all the ages. 
You hide from the world certain striking objects, pecu- 
liarly adapted to attract regard, to fix the inquiring 
attention, and prevent Christianity from being lost to 
the notice of man. 

But beyond this general importance, is to be consi- 
dered their value to the faith and comfort of believers. 
They revive in their minds, and keep fresh, the sense 
of their connexion with Christ, and their obligation 
to the truth. By simple, but affectionate and tender, 
appeals to their hearts, they increase their love, 
strengthen their faith, quicken their devotion, animate 
their obedience. They bring nearer to them a sense of 
that inestimable love which passes knowledge, and 
work in them a powerful admiration, and diligent imita- 
tion, of their holy and honoured Lord. No sincere and 
grateful believer can sincerely and gratefully offer him- 
self or his child at the baptismal font, or sit down with 
brethren at the memorial of his master's love, without 
acknowledging an increase, or at least a confirmation, 
of the power of religion. No such one can neglect it. 
alter once tasting its satisfactions, without experiencing 



13 

a decay of his interest in religion, and an unsatisfied 
thirst for the appropriate sustenance of his soul. 

II. Having thus spoken, as far as the occasion de- 
mands, of the means by which we are to promote the free 
course of the Gospel, we proceed to the other part of 
our text, and inquire how we may cau-e it to be glorifieJ. 
This is not a distinction without a difference : since that 
maybe upheld by powerful institutions, and e 
prevail, which yet is not an object <>f reasonable 
rence and admiration. And the friends of Christianity 

done but a part of their duty when thev ha\ 
boured for its diffusion, if they have not also M 
for it the hoin set, and lave, wbidi are ita 

That it rightfully chal and trust 

of man, as being in itself essentially and unspeakably 
glorious, is be\ond controversy. Vet in order t.» be 
discerned as such, it must be seen ai it it, in fa 
beautiful features, and native unmixed excellence. As 
it came from its author and was d is p lay ed in his life, 
none have ever been able to regard it w,r rot ot 

indifference. The eloquent tongue of infidelity itself) 
like that of the reluctant demons of old, has been com- 
pelled to utter its eulogy and bear witness to its hea- 
•venly name. But it might be veiled under such di>-_ 
mingled with such crude and false philosophy, encum- 
bered with such unnecessary appendages, and SO impli- 
cated with the weakness and rices «»t its professed ad- 
vocates, as to render it repulsive rather than glorious. 
and procure it enemies instead of friends. 

They who are set for the defence of the Gospel must 
remember this, and be earnest to advance such a faithful 
representation of its doctrines, that even gains 
shall acknowledge that "God is in them of a truth.'" 
In deciding what form of doctrine will most attract U 



14 

our religion the admiration and faith ol mankind, we are 
liable to deceive ourselves by partial views and limited 
consid 'rations We are apt to judge too exclusively 

bat exists before our own eyes, and in the s resent 
state of the world. But we should reflect, that the doc- 

uliich is most honoured now, may not be so per- 
manently; that what now is thought to constitute the 
peculiar glory of revelation, may not be actually most 
glorious ; while that which is the contempt of the majo- 
rity, may not only, under other circumstances, become 
its admiration, bat may be grand and eternal truth. 
History overflows with the proof of this position. There 
was a time when Christianity itself was every where 
spoken against, and its advocates numbered with the 
off-scouring of the world. There was a period when 
the Romish church was the honour and pride of undi- 
vided Christendom, while the noble company of the 
Reformers was trodden down in contempt. We are 
not therefore to judge of what shall be lastingly glorious 
by the present prevalence of any of its popular forms ; 
but by its conformity with those attributes of the Divine 
nature, which are unchanging, those acknowledged laws 
of truth which never vary, and those principles of the 
human constitution which are in all ages the same. Every 
thing else changes with the change of circumstances and 
the fluctuating tide of manners and opinions. This 
tide has lifted on its surface, and borne on triumphantly 
before men, that system of doctrine which is now glori- 
fied as the uncorrupt and orthodox faith ; but the waters 
may subside, as they often have done before, and beat 
it away, when they fall, to the deep gulph of neglect 
and oblivion. While the simple and more rational 
system, which is now the object of abuse from those 
who lead, and of horrour in those who follow, shall win 
to itself the faith and affection of the world, and rise in 



15 

glory, as it has been thrust down in shame. For thii 
we are to toil Let no hosts of opposition discourage 
us. To advance this, it may be that we must bear oh 
loquy, reproach and suffering But He who brought it 
to the world, endured it all before; like this holv doc- 
trine, was despised and rejected of men : and as he tri- 
umphed and reigned, so shall this doctrine also. 

It is true, that in whatever form Christian truth 
prevail, it is not robbed ot I t j b 

one proof of its heavenly origin, i 1 
hare ever been able to hide it> beauty and BBftjesI 

Its light has I , and fell 

all the thick vapours ^\n\ dark clouds that I. 
accumulated aroufid it 
away, and the luminary shine from ti 
own free and unob lour, how far more 

spicuous would he its glory, and with 
admiration would it be led ! 

vVe cannot doubt, then, thai the limp* - 
mes is most likely to . 
of the Gospel. Ever) thing 

proportion to its simp [Tie objects who: 

grandest in the works of Nature, are among the mim 
pleat, of the sublime work f the 

striking characteristics What more Bublime, than the 
stari \ heavens, the lofty mountains, the unfathomable 
n, whether sleeping or tern] Yet no ob- 

jects are more simple, or oiler less complication of 
ideas. The grandest of the works of man are also the 

simplest. Those admirable structures, whose ruins 

the wonder of posterity, and those « 

equally first in all ages, are for nothing so remark 

their noble simplicity. What is complicated and 
intricate, becomes obscure and wearisome; an. 
oul\ things whose beauty is ever new, and « 



16 

traction never ceases, are those which are plain and 
simple. 

So it is with the Gospel. Compared with the compli- 
cated systems of the heathen world, and the multitu- 
dinous observances of the Mosaic dispensation, there is 
an obvious majesty in its simplicity, which speaks the 
perfected work of God. If you seek to render it im- 
posing by a profusion of gorgeous observances, you may 
indeed seem to succeed for a time, and among some, as 
has happened in the disguises which it wore in the 
darker ages of the Church : but you hide its divinest 
charm, and liken it to the theatrical display of heathen 
worship. If you annex to it mysterious and subtle dog- 
mas, which perplex the understanding and are fearful 
to the fancy, you may seem to excite veneration and 
awe ; but still there was a profounder awe in the false 
mysteries of pagan superstition ; and in the schools of 
the philosophers, there was as great ingenuity and sub- 
tlety of solemn dogmatism, when * the world by wisdom 
knew not God,' as has ever existed in the schools of the 
fathers and doctors of metaphysical Christianity. It is 
not thus that the religion of Jesus is to be glorified. It is 
when unadorned that it is adorned the most ; when, strip- 
ped of all the dazzling and pompous accompaniments 
by which man would give lustre to the work of God, — 
it stands forth, as Jesus walked in Judea, humble, un- 
pretending, without title or state, yet with a native mien 
of dignity and power, which impresses and overawes. 

O how unlike the complex works of man, 
Heaven's easy, artless, unencumbered plan ! 
No meretricious graces to beguile, 
Xo clustering ornaments to clog the pile ; 
From ostentation as from weakness free, 
It siawls, like the cerulean arch we see, 
Majestic in its own simplicity. 



17 

This simplicity of the Gospel is seen in its object, and 
in the manner in which it accomplishes that object. 

Its object is the salvation of man, that is, his prepa- 
ration for the happiness of heaven, by forming in him a 
holy heart and character, — an object simple and unam- 
biguous, yet one of the grandest which can be conceived 
by the human mind. 

That this is the single ami final purpose of the chris- 
tian revelation, is written so plainly 00 its very front 
that it cannot be mistaken. This is what is meant when 
it proposes to ' make all thi 

universal regeneration of man and earth : and would 
' purify a peculiar people -." \midst 

all the differences of Christia triad 

and forms <>t their religion, it has Dei matter ot 

question that this is its end. Whatever influence the 
incautious interpretation and preaching of the word 
may often appear to have had in relaxing the obligation 
of virtue, and eno BIO ; whatever opinions m 

consistent with a pure heart and mora) life may have 
been vehemently maintained : yet it oaf never been 
deliberately denied, that a pure heart and holy lit. 
the intended and essential i the Christina 

tem, without which it d ve. 

For thi- • the more melancholy, that an\ 

should be found in the Christian pulpit, to speak in 
sneering and contemptuous tone- of morality, anil thus 
render it an object of suspicion and dislike to religious 
people. Doubtless there is an external superficial pro- 
priety, sometimes dignified with the name of moralitv, 
built upon worldly expediency, independent of the great 
principles of right, and the authority ot God, which, in 
the view of the Christian, is utterly hollow and insuf- 
ficient. Rut this should be refened to the class of 
wrong principles and motives. Speak of it as such, 



18 

strongly as you please ; but it is a fatal error, on ac- 
count of this mistake, to cast suspicion upon the very 
name of morals. For you thus lead men lightly to 
esteem, easily deride, and practically trample upon, 
what is as indispensable a part of Christian holiness, as 
the sermon on the mount is of the New Testament, or 
the ten commandments of the Old ; and what can be no 
more innocently slighted, than those holy passages may 
be expunged from the sacred volume. 

As the object of the Gospel is thus simple, so also, as 
I said, are its means. 

These may be said to be Divine Truth. Truth is the 
great instrument by which, in this dispensation of God's 
grace, the human mind is wrought upon, subdued, 
guided, sanctified, saved. ' Sanctify them by thy truth; 
thy word is truth.' • Being born again by the word of 
God, which liveth and abideth forever.' 

This word, or truth, divides itself into two branches ; 
doctrines, or principles, and precepts ; in other words, 
instruction concerning the principles of religion, and 
concerning their application in practice. In regard to 
each, great is the simplicity of the means by which the 
gospel effects its objects. 

In regard to doctrines, their great purpose is the for- 
mation of the religious principle. Those which are 
necessary to this, are few and intelligible. The reli- 
gious principle, which frames the character of the reli- 
gious man, and sanctifies him throughout by its influence, 
is that settled regard to the divine authority, presence, 
and perfections, which induces a necessary conformity 
to his will. Now what are the doctrines which are ne- 
cessary to such a state of mind ? That they cannot be 
very numerous or very difficult, is evident from this,— 
that the patriarchs, in the infancy of knowledge and 
religion, possessed it. The Apostle speaks of it in them 



19 

under the name of Faith, and declares that it qualified 
them to 'inherit the promises.' Now their faith, suffi- 
cient as it was, was a faith in no more articles than the 
existence, providence, and perfections of God, and a 
consequent trust in him and subjection to his will, under 
a sense of their accountablene- 

It is evident therefore that the religious principle 
may exist upon the foundation of a fen limple doctrine?. 
It is equally evident that it doefl - beneath the 

Christian dispensation. lt- 

authority and man's accountable gether with the 

mission ol J< promise l Messi i sod Saviour 

of men, and a fun, of righteous retribution, are 

those on which the religious principle is now builded, 
and by which man is Banctified and saved. <» 
press the same thing in the word- of our Lord himself; 
Thu is Hj\ tU rnalt to kntn 

and Jesus Christ, whom Thou ha»i teilf. There are 
doubtless other truths connected with thee low- 

ing from them. But these sre the sufficient principles 
which lie at the foundation, and sustain, and had to, 
the others. These are they which the holy script 
alone enumerate, when thev pn 

itial to Balvation. These, when thev have made 
their abode in the mind, are able to control, to subdue, 
to correct, to elevate, to purify, Thej present the 
grand and authoritative motives; they combine with 
themselves all that is affi i ting in the history and ! 
of our religion; and they pervade the mind, which hearti- 
ly receives them, with holy and pyre devotion. 

Such is the simplicity of the Gospel in those docti 
through which it operates on men. 

This representation, I am aware, does no* acknow- 
ledge in the Christian system some of those features, 
which are by manv thought to belong to it, and to con- 
D 



20 

stitute its essential glory. It may seem to such less 
imposing; it certainly offers less gratification to that 
thirst for the mystical and mysterious, which some are 
so anxious to gratify, and which is so strong a propensity 
in the human constitution, that, if I believed in the 
original corruption of human nature, I might be inclined 
to number this among those depraved passions which 
are inimical to the truth. I certainly conceive it most 
consistent with the character of a revealed religion, that 
its revelations be clear and distinct, not wrapped up in 
obscurity and mysticism. They may not be within the 
grasp and full comprehension of the finite mind ; but 
the mind must be able to know what they are ; otherwise 
they are not revealed. Yet there has always been among 
men an unwise craving for what is mysterious, vague, 
inexplicable; for whatever oppresses and overwhelms 
the imagination, and is in some degree an object of 
terrific emotion. It is this which has in all ages created 
the insatiable curiosity to search the secrets of the grave; 
which has called forth the tales and terrors of superna- 
tural apparitions, and the cruel and bloody superstitions 
which appertain to sorcery and magic. It is the same 
propensity which has led to the loading of all religions 
with fearful and dismaying appendages. A plain reli- 
gion, which men can understand and explain, seems to 
them not suflkiently removed from human things, not 
sufficiently awful and distant, too well adapted to poor 
human understanding. They would have shadows, 
clouds, and darkness rest upon it; they would believe 
and worship, they know not what. When therefore 
Christianity came to them, plainly and frankly, to walk 
with them and converse with them as a familiar friend, 
they were both astonished and dissatisfied : they thought 
it ought not to be so simple as it appeared, and soon 
persuaded themselves that it was not; then they ob- 
scured it under the follies and fancies, mysteries and 



31 

forms, notions and speculations, which they had brought 
with them from their heathen faith and heathen philoso- 
phy. History tells us how sadly the pure doctrine soon 
became disfigured by the incorporation of pagan rites 
and philosophical dogmas: more and more obscured as 
the age grew darker and darker, until, in the midnight 
of the barbaric ages, it could hardly be distinguished 
amid its disguises, for the plain system of Christ. A 
single example of this may well illustrate this general 
position. In the early day of Christian; opsis 

of the Christian doctrine wa^ drawn up, which has come 
down to us under the name of th< iced. 

This describes what was then thought to be the orthodox 
faith; and it represents the Gospel M nearU 
to its master's simplicity, that si the hetci 

unitarian subscribes it as heartily as the orthodox trmi- 
tarian, and with far more consistenoj* But at the council 
of Nice, so great progress had been made in adapting 
the Gospel to the human love of the marvellous, that a 
new creed was fashioned, containing main rerj -ubtle 
and unintelligible distinctions. Aiut i yet farther 
lapse toward barbarism, a yet farther adaptation 
requisite; and then came forth the lull maturity of the 
Athanasian creed, containing not only the most won- 
derful mysteries which a degenerate age could exj 
but the most hearty curses a profligate age could utter. 
These three creeds may be fairly regarded as three 
monumeuts, by which the ingress of the dark age- 
marked. And in like manner they miv ier?e to lignifj 
the progress of the light of the Reformation. The Athan- 
asian creed is hardly named amongst Protestants, ex- 
cept with pity and horror. For even the members of 
that Church which still commands it to be read thirteen 
times a year, pay it neither deference nor respect. The 
Nicene symbol is fast losing its authority and veneration : 



22 

As knowledge and candor gain ground, the churches 
are more and more satisfied with the plain exposition 
of the Apostle's creed; many have even gone back to 
the true creed of the apostles in the holy scriptures. 
Would to God that the progress of the Reformation 
had been more rapid and more thorough ! But the same 
causes which rendered it necessary, have contributed to 
retard it. We are not to expect therefore that the 
Church will return at once to the simplicity that is in 
Christ. It is too plain and unpretending : yet, in truth, 
this is its glory; at present too little recognised, too 
much despised ; yet a wonderful and unspeakable glory. 
There have been those who would not believe in the 
remedy which God has in late years provided for the 
most loathsome of diseases, because it is so simple J 
and just so, many will not believe that so simple 
a Gospel can work the regeneration of the world, 
and therefore they would fill it with wonders. Let 
us, brethren, receive it as it is, as it lies in the 
scriptures of truth. Let us not be anxious for other 
wonders ; the greatest of all wonders is its simplicity. 
And nothing which the invention of man has added or 
can add, could so demonstrate " the wisdom of God and 
the power of God." 

Besides the doctrinal portion of our religion, there is, 
I observed, its preceptive portion, which also operates 
as a chief means towards effecting its great design. 
Under this division there is a simplicity equally re- 
markable, though it is unnecessary to enter into so full 
an illustration. Nothing can be less complicated or 
obscure. The directions concerning duty are plain and 
comprehensive; not needlessly multiplied, and so re- 
ferable to a few great principles, as to be liable to no 
doubt, forgetfulness or mistake. Love to God and to 
men is their substance. Whatever is inconsistent with 



23 



this, is forbidden : whatever is conformable to this, is 
duty. Love is the fulfilling of the law ; he who che- 
rishes the principle will never be guilty of a breach if 
the law. There is needed no extensive learning, 
no deep and laborious investigation, no profound and 
intricate ratiocination, to ascertain what the Lord re- 
quires of us : no volumes of refuted Casuistry, or meta- 
physical discussions, which should make it a " very 
learned, subtle, and ingenious i ian." 

Butthe path is plain, and the directions i 
and the way- faring man, though a fool, mod not err 
therein. 

Such is the i in which the -t be 

presented, if we would JC and p 

glory. 1 pass to remark none bi o-ll v in the m-u place, 
that if we would cause it to Ik- glorified we 
it with zeal. Tin ^ o( w)la 

nature, is greatly dependent on the spirit of its friends. 
Tt i* for them to present its claim., toftrgc then on the 
notice of men, to SWskeil attention < 

cite interest in oth ,t ,t bss had | 

to interest themselves. How man\ arduous ami ill 
impossible enterprise! have 

pie force of the ardour with which their conductor pro- 
secuted them ! How many excellent pUos of oo 
difficult accomplishment, have been suffered to fail, 
merely from want of zeal and enterprise in their behalf f 
With this truth impressed upon us by ail the experience 
of the past, we cannot look for the Gospel to prevail 
in an opposing world, except it call forth the /.ealous 
operation of its friends. It never has 
can be so. God has made the energy of man to work 
its prevalence in times past, ami he ha. not changed 
the constitution of things. Throughout the history of 
the church, it has been the < fervent ; in spirit' who have 



commanded the attention and homage of men. Zeal, 
even when degenerated into fanaticism and separated 
from the aids of reason, has gathered followers and 
gained power. And reason, except when allied with 
zeal and active perseverance, has been little able to 
maintain, much less to extend, her rightful dominion. 

God forbid, then, that the greatest and most impor- 
tant of all causes should be treated by its friends lightly 
and coolly ; and that through any apprehension of be- 
ing charged with '. madness,' they should avoid the ear- 
nest and burning ■ words of truth and soberness,' and 
the ready self devotion of those who * spend and are 
spent' to promote magnificent designs. A man without 
zeal lives to the condemnation either of his own heart, 
which is incapable of high moral fervour ; or of his pro- 
fession, which is unworthy of it. Zeal is doubtless a 
different thing in different men. In some men it can- 
not be excited to that passion, which it displays in 
others. But every man is susceptible of a moral energy 
of action, a devotion of spirit to some favourite object; 
and this is zeal— capable of cultivation and growth. 
Let it be cultivated and grow in the friends of religion^ 
if they would advance their religion. It excites atten- 
tion, sympathy, and co-operation. It is the spring of suc- 
cessful action. It is in character what eloquence is in lan- 
guage. It gives a man surprising power over the minds 
of others ; it enables him to excite the hearts of the 
coolest, and engage the exertions of the most indolent. 
Tu act a great cause coldly is as disgraceful as to plead 
it sluggishly ; and to do either is to aid in defeating it. 
It were better to be fanatical than indifferent, for then 
it might at least be seen that our religion has power to 
move and agitate. But where reason presides over the 
religious affections, the last thing to be apprehended is 
fanaticism ; and success is not to be hoped or expected, 



25 

except men be addressed with fervour and earnestness, 
and their moral feelings be engaged by the beautj, 
grandeur, and excellence of what is in itself so holy and 
sublime, and so fitted to ensure the perfection of the 
human character. 

At the same time, if we would cause the truth to be 
glorified, it must be advocated with Charity. T 
be no bitterness, nor clamour, nor wrath, nor malice, 
nor evil speaking, in the Christian's teal. All 
an contrary to his Master's spirit, and hinder his 

b. The spirit of in e sod bigotry has 

one of the principal obstacles to the progress of the 
church, and the improvement of man. It basted I 
ssenmptioa of authority, which Christ aeeet A 
to the ottering of anathemas! which his word 

warrant, to the imposition of cr U. winch bind the 

truth in fetters, ami deprive the SMl of its lawful 

and liberty. Let all this be discouraged, here and 

where. Wherever Christ's proclamation of !i 
been heard, let not the pretensions of human b 

tolerated. It has shed the best blood of I 
impiously striven to I, lot out the OS „„.„ 

from the Lamb's book of life. In tin, I,! ,| [J, 

dun-eons have bee o destroyed, an. I its faggot 

£uished, and it has been cast down I throns of 

power, where it wielded the maf ,d But 

it still lodges in many an an hap „, and bl 

with the venemoos breath of its mouth, reputation 

fluence, and peace. As we honour the name oi ou, 

Lord, let us « age again si this foe a war of extermination. 

Let us not res', nor hold our peace, till its power be ui 
terly trodden under loot. Watch against it. prtj 
it, preach against it. Let not a word nor a thou^ht^plead 
for it in this holy place. No, my brother, thongfa voui 
people, with the madness of Israel when he asked a 



26 

king, should clamour for a creed that might exclude 
their own faith from improvement, and other believers 
from their fellowship., or should press you to fulminate 
from this place the denunciations of reviling and ill-will 
which have sounded from other pulpits; resist them to 
the utmost, and pay any price rather than so far forget the 
spirit and example of your Lord. And if you, brethren, 
should ever find in your pastor this sad breach of holy 
charity, fail not to remind him that he is unfaithful to 
his trust, and enter your loud protest against this dis- 
honour to a good cause, this desecration of a holy office. 
True religion will triumph only as it is free. You set 
limits to its empire whenever you abridge the right of 
free inquiry, or allow any man to place himself on the 
judgment seat of Christ, or nourish in your own bosoms 
a censorious temper and a spiritual ambition. 

But above all, in the last place, there is nothing which 
will so tend to promote the honour of the true gospel, 
as the faithful and consistent lives of its friends. Its 
highest eulogy is read in their elevated and uniform 
devotion, their trust in God, their equanimity in change 
and tria 1 , their fidelity, in every relation, their integrity, 
purity, humility, benevolence. To form these virtues 
m them, to render them * perfect in every word and 
work,' is the very object to be effected by their adhe- 
rence to the Gospel. If it be not effected, discredit is 
brought upon the religion itself, which they profess to 
advocate, for the sake of a good influence, which their 
own lives declare it does not possess. But when their 
conversation is according to the blamelessness and 
purity of the Christian doctrine, fashioned upon the 
model of Jesus Christ, and illustrious with the consistent 
beauty of his excellencies ; it is a living and breathing 
eulogy of their faith, which every one sees, understands, 
feels, and acknowledges. The profound scholar, the 



27 

learned theologian, the eloquent orator, may demon- 
strate, illustrate, and adorn; but the devout and humble 
believer, who 'shows his faith by i. -.' will do 

far more to convince and win. Has it not always been 
so? I- it not when adorned by the charitable and un- 
spotted lives of its friends, that the religion of Jesus 
has been most glorious and admirable ? And 
been cast down from its honourable place, win' 
worldliness and I 

of its advocate- .- Doei not buroa 

in all ages teach y twever gloriou 

may be in itself, yet the ill conduct of r may 

ire that glory, and their exemplar) Uvea rand 
■ 

into our hands, a precious, solemn, awful charge, I 
by us adorned and recommi kind, or I 

by us disfigured, obscured, and made I n | 
men; — even as it is written, ' My name is blasphemed 
among the nations because of jrou. 1 Waal a reap 

bilit\ then is ours ! (. 
faithfully to sustain it ! 

In occupying the time allotted me OH tl 
have endeavoured to point out the 
which it suggests, of advancing religi< - pub- 

lic institutions, and of recommending il I 
admiration of men through the character of '!•• 

lied, and by the leal, liberality, ami i 
life, with which the great cause ifl ndi 

my dear brother, these topics particularly add 1 
selves. They concern your duties, your h 
your - u now devote 

self in the presence and man. It becomes 

the object of your life to uphold the worship and ordi- 
nances of the Gospel, and to labour for the advance* 
ment of its glory in the world. M.^ sat vou a 

E 



£8 

great blessing ! May he give you zeal, charity, and piety, 
and make you eminently serviceable to the cause of di- 
vine truth and human salvation. In the situation to which 
you have been called, there are circumstances of pecu- 
liar trial. They fill your mind with solicitude, and they 
demand from us expressions and acts of sympathy and 
aid, which I trust we shall not fail to render you. 
May they never be withheld, and never be ineffectual ; 
and in every trial, may He especially be your support, 
who is nearer and greater than all earthly friends. 
There are also peculiar circumstances of encouragement 
and grounds of hope, which may well cheer and ani- 
mate your exertions. May your best hopes of useful- 
ness and happiness be fulfilled. May you find your se- 
paration from the friends of your youth, compensated 
in the kindness and fidelity of those, who welcome you 
as one of themselves. May you have the great happi- 
ness of witnessing the prevalence of pure and undefiled 
religion in all its heavenly and holy doctrines, in all its 
pure and comforting influences, in all its correcting and 
regenerating power ; and having been with this people 
* fellow helpers to the truth' on earth, may you and they 
see the full glory, and partake the unspeakable felicity 
of the blessed in the eternal kingdom of God. 

Brethren of this Christian Society— We offer you 
our congratulations on the auspicious occurrence of this 
day. Long and faithfully have you persevered in ad- 
ministering the worship and ordinances of God's house, 
according to the dictates of your consciences; and, faith- 
ful to their dictates, you still persevere. You have the 
good wishes and prayers in your behalf of your sister 
hes. May God smile upon you, and send you 
prosperity. May he abundantly reward 'all your pa- 
tience of faith and labour of love,' and cause this day 
to be remembered with devout gratitude, by you and 



29 

your children, not only during this pilgrimage of your 
probation, but in the future world of eternal recom- 
pence. 

And in order to this, let me exhort you in the words 
of the Apostle — Brethren, pray for us — pray for your 
Pastor ; let your devotions encourage him : an«l by your 
zealous and hearty co-operation, may vou cuiw that 
the word of the Lord have free coarse and be glorified, 
around you, beyond you, and throughout the world, 
even as it is amongst you. 



CHARGE. 



. now fill the minister 
i the oversight of this Charck and - 
. — The E al Council, he 

d me tli- , solemnly to enjoin on 

fidelity. This i wtho- 

rity, but by the authority of our common Lord aad Mat- 
ter. Hear it Worn the mouth of hit inspired An 
• Take heed to the ministry which you have received of 
ord, thai you lull'; 
Vou have studied the duties of your p and 

we trust you need not be reminded of their import 

1 for the 

motives, under the influence of v. huh, these duties 
should be performed, and I - * their il 

tnt endea 
vours to imbue your own mind a ipiritoftl 

vine Author of our religion, to implant Christian prin- 

itio*, 

honourably to support your professional character, and 

faithfully, and - in your power, acceptably to 

He the labours of a minister — This is essential to 

ilvation of your own soul, and is necessary to the 

success of your ministry. 

A our situation as a clergyman is favourable forchn- 



nan improvement. You labour exclusively in the mo- 
ral kingdom of God. In other professions and pur- 
suits, bodily wants and worldly interests are principally 
concerned, but mind is the exclusive object of the mi- 
nister of the Gospel. Other men labour for the conve- 
niences and comforts of a momentary existence ; you 
labour to excite in your fellow men the love of truth, 
and the pursuit of virtue, and to confirm in them the 
hope of life eternal. Your stated business directly tends 
to the cultivation of your intellectual powers, and the 
improvement of your moral affections. In" other pro- 
fessions, a man may become eminent without the pecu- 
liar attainments of the disciple of Jesus ; but the better 
the minister is informed, the more enlightened is the 
christian ; the more faithful the minister, the more per- 
fect the man All men are under obligation to walk 
worthily of their christian vocation, but the minister is 
set apart to be an example to believers, in word, in 
conversation, in charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity. 

"While a leader then in public offices of devotion, 
shall your own heart be undevout ? While inculcating 
precepts of charity and beneficence, shall not the kindly 
affections be cherished in your own breast ? While you 
daily exhort your fellow men to prepare for death, judg- 
ment, and eternity, will you not for yourself estimate 
the worth of endless happiness, and with all your pow- 
ers aspire after the employments and joys of Heaven ? 
Take care that the moral tendency of your profession 
be not counteracted by unhallowed passions, or worldly 
interests. Take care that the reiteration of religious 
services do not degenerate into a mere form, blunt your 
moral sensibility, and harden your mind to impressions 
of piety. Take heed, lest by any means, when you 
have preached to others, you yourself should be a cast- 
away. 



33 

The ecclesiastical state of our country powerfully 
enforces the obligation of a minister to fill up the mea- 
sure of pastoral duty. In a past century the order 
of the priesthood was holden in high veneration, and 
the authority and influences of the clergy were control- 
ling; even where the clerical character was not deemed 
indelible, nor the profession a panoply for gross immo- 
rality, the cloth did cover a multitude of weaknesses- 
Through New England, at least, Protestant Di-senters 
were with few exceptions of one denomination, and with- 
drawing from the predominant - considered as 
a fall but little less heinous than ip -n Chris- 
tianity. Under these circumstances, the ministry wa- 
supported by public sentiment, the min areer 
was comparatively easy, and ordinary prudence Mpport- 
the pastoral relation. 

Times are changed; and the situation of ministers is 
changed with them. Though the order ia -till acknow- 
ledged to be important to the best interest! ofe©< 
yet respect is now paid to the man, if the mi- 

nister, in a much higher degree than formerly. The 
clerical profession with us i> no cover for weak' 
levity, or imprudence. Religious freedom if 
in our land, and all denomina inns of Christians 
placed in a state of perfect equality. The age is inqui- 
sitive, the spirit of inquiry is carried into subjects of 
religion, and no system of doctrine can stand merely on 
the basis of human authority. Every opinion will be 
brought to the test of reason and scripture. 

The peculiar circumstances attending the present 
state of the Christian ministry need not be regretted, 
but should furnish motives for strenuous effort; and 
the purpose of the above remarks, my brother, is the 
more deeply to impress on your mind the importance 
of honourably supporting the appropriate character of a 



34 

minister of the Gospel, and of performing with efficacy 
the duties of the pastoral office. The bulwarks erected 
by civil government for the defence of the clerical order 
are removed from you. You must stand on your own 
individual responsibility; and, as it respects human 
means, the accomplishment of the design of the Chris- 
tian ministry, in this society, is in a high degree sus- 
pended on your personal character, on your exemplary 
conduct, and on the intelligent, serious, and acceptable 
manner in which you perform the public duties of your 
profession. 

In your situation, ordinary vigilance and exertion will- 
not be accepted. Every deficiency and defect will be 
pointedly noticed, and some may think you their enemy 
because you tell them the truth. Embody then our re- 
ligion in your life, and give it, in view of all around 
you, a visible form, The unobtrusive example of the 
pious and benevolent minister addresses the people of 
his charge with persuasive eloquence ; and the clerical 
character consistently supported, and the habitual ex- 
emplification of Christian virtues and graces, will even- 
tually secure general respect and esteem. How bitter 
would be the regret, should the sublime cause, to which 
you have devoted yourself, suffer through your deficien- 
cy! Whether your ministry shall prove successful, 
depends in a great measure on the wisdom and propriety 
of your life and conversation. Even suspicion that you 
are destitute of professional information, or are in moral 
character defective, would to you be fatal. If you lose, 
the confidence of your own flock, you will lose the power 
to do them good. Should your character in common 
estimation become tarnished, your public usefulness will 
come to an end. Will the consequent mortification be 
compensated by any gratification to be enjoyed from 
the indulgence of an indolent mind, or a participation 



35 

in the empty amusements of the world ? But, beloved 
brother, we are persuaded better things of you, and things 
that accompany salvation, thou-!, we T | )U " S sp L . a k. 
^ Our religion furnishes motives to fortify yum resolu- 
tion, to animate your diligence, and enliven you, 
even in a situation which will require in an ui 
degree strenuous and unwearied exertions. Yo 
expect comparatively little aid In.,,, Jour minis! 
brethren. An independent -pint mnstbe your sup 
and you must depend on the n 
mind. Be not diet 

and dangers which the apostles ol our Lord en | 

when they went forth to preach the Gosp I. 
their snreringa moved then : dot did the 
lives dear unto the 10 thej night f: - 

Sonne with joy, and the ninistry which thej 
of the Lord Jesus to testifj the Gospel ol the i 
God. Consider that Jesus himself, in lubmisnon to the 
will of his Rather, endured the cross, and despised the 
shame. Remember the divine promises t • M r 
sufficient for thee; for my - , ()( . per f ej 

weakness,"— "They thai be wise shall shine u the 

brightness ot the firmanent, and they who turn many 

to rifc+teo stars for e?er and ever." 

Corel then earnest^ the best . fts. r .. beed n 
thyself to reading and to prayer. Do 

the work of an evangelist Fulfil thy ninisti 
In doing this, thou shah both Bave thyself, and them 

that hear thee. 



RIGHT HAND OF FELLOWSHIP. 



The day on which a young man is consecrated to the 
work of the christian ministry, isaday of interesting as- 
sociations, ol many hopes, and man J anxieties. In the 
freshness of opening life, be conies willingly to the 

altar of God, and offers there, not the gifts of provi- 
dence, not the service of an hour, but the labour of his 
whole earthly being ; he ofl If. both body and 

soul, to the cause of heaven, rhe occasion awakens in 
the minds of those, who have already given themselves 
to the pastoral office, renin - of a solemn and 

tender nature. The day is a day of sympathy, of na- 
tural and religious sympathy. The scenes of a former 
time rush to mind, when they too went in the 
of christian faith, and made their 
vice. The feelings of that period come back, when the 
heart was full to overflowing, and the experience of the 
hours since that period comes with them, to tell that the 
apprehensions of the spirit were not groundless, that 
the ministry of the gospel of Christ is not an idle 
charge. The path on which a new brother cheerfully 
enters, has been found by those who have preceded him, 
to be a straight and narrow way, in which many diffi- 
culties must be surmounted, and constant vigilance be 



38 

exercised. They therefore, while they exhort him to be 
faithful to his trust, and set before him the duties that 
he is required to discharge, withhold not the expression 
of their joy and sympathy ; their joy, that he has under- 
taken an honourable and glorious work, their sympa- 
thy in his future trials. They are incited to this office 
of kindness, not merely by the feelings of natural as- 
sociation, but by the spirit of Christianity, and the ex- 
ample of its first teachers. Our religion is an affectionate 
religion, and in this respect, as well as in its spiritual 
character, is distinguished from all other systems of 
faith and practice ; and so far as any form of doctrine 
or conduct, breathes not the spirit of love, it deviates 
from pure Christianity. St. Paul, in vindicating his 
apostolic character to the Galatians, tells them among 
the circumstances of his commission, that he received 
the right hand of fellow&hip from the other apostles. 
When they had determined the sphere of their respec- 
tive labours, when he and Barnabas were appointed to 
go unto the heathen, while James, and Peter, and 
John went unto the circumcision, they gave each other 
the right hand of fellowship. It was a symbol of their mu- 
tual relation, their equal authority, and their common 
affection. It was a pledge of their future remembrance, 
and perpetual union. They were on the eve of sepa- 
ration. A life of toil and danger lay before them ; the 
world was their field of exertion. They knew not that 
they should ever again meet on earth. They were 
bound together by the ties of faith and suffering, and 
these ties required them to part. At such a moment, 
with how much fervour must that pledge of fidelity to 
each other, and to their Master, have been exchanged. 
It was not an unmeaning ceremony. It was the grasp of 
fraternal and christian affection, of men of strong minds 
and warm hearts bidding each other farewel on the en- 



39 

trance of a journey through persecution and distress ; 
of fellow disciples going to spread a new religion 
through the earth, who might never be animated by each 
other's presence, till they received the reward of their 
labours in heaven. 

The ministers of the gospel have not now the same 
painful anticipations, which were shared bv its early 
teachers. But they have much to endure, and much to 
effect; and the simple ceremony, which the apostles 
adopted, still retains its meanii 

feelings springing from our Data re and - -d by 

our religion. And in accordance with the custom of 
our churches, 1 now, in behalf of myself ft nd <> 
this pi edge of congratulation ami sympathy. My brother, 
I give you the right hand of fellowship. it> mea 
you will not question ; its sincerity yon will not d 
In the name of this council of pastors and delegal 
salute you as a regularly ordained minister ol 
pel of Christ, and declare to this assembly, and to all 
men, that you are in our view Cully constituted a bishop 
in the church of the Lord. Too arc clothed with an 
office of great importance and respOnsibleness By the 
prayer of consecration and the imposition ofhandi 
have been separated to peculiar duties and prmli 
To these duties I welcome yon, not because thoj 
arduous, but because they are holy and honourable. 
You will labour in the c&USC ofOod and of his BOD Jesus 
Christ. You will be united with God our father in the 
salvation of men ; his grace wil 1 ,u, and bv you 

will his grace be dispensed. You will follow the 
of the Lord Jesus; you have the same end in view tor 
which he taught, suffered, and died. As an ambassador 
for God in Christ's Btead you will stand in thi> h 
It is an honourable office. The faithful, consistent, 
Christian minister, let him be in poverty or obscuritv. 



40 

in suffering or persecution, is in the employment of 
heaven ; and what higher station could he demand. You 
will minister, not in carnal, but in spiritual things. It 
will be your aim to pour light into the darkened mind, 
and consolation into the wounded heart; to give hope 
to the desponding, confidence to the humble, and peace 
to the dying. The mourner will rest on you for sup- 
port, and you must point him to the christian's Father, 
and to the christian's home. The doubting will come 
to you for instruction, and you must unfold to him the 
truths of our religion. The sick will call on you for 
prayers, and you must teach him to ask in faith and 
submission. You will watch the departing of the spirit, 
and let it ascend to heaven in the incense, of your de- 
votion. Such are the least painful duties to which 
you will be summoned. It is not becoming in me to 
urge these or other labours upon you : you have been 
solemnly charged to exhort, admonish, and edify by 
word and by example. I would name these services 
that I may encourage you in view of them ; for they 
carry their reward with them. In the gratitude of those 
whom you benefit, in the love of those whom you serve, 
in the improvement of those whom you teach, you will 
find ample compensation for all your perseverance ; you 
will enjoy the confidence of many hearts ; you will share 
in tbe joys as well as the sorrows of many families ; you 
will be the friend as well as the minister : chambers will 
be cordially opened to you which affliction has closed to 
all others; Ihe eye of the sufferer will brighten at your 
entrance ; many souls which God alone has searched, 
will be revealed to you ; much genuine goodness, much 
fervent piety which the world sees not will be discovered 
by you : and after a day spent in the communion of other 
minds, when you have witnessed all varieties of situa- 
tion, and have been called at one moment to rejoice with 



41 

those that rejoice, and at another to weep with those 
that weep, you will find in the evening meditation of 
your own thoughts a satisfaction that will far outweigh 
fatigue, and drive away despondency. To such privileges, 
to such joys, which none but a devoted minister can 
taste, I welcome you. I know that you will need them, 
and will value them. I welcome you, inv brother! 
to a life of trial, and of reward. 1 would not that you 
should think it an easy task to minister at the christian 
altar; the tire must be watched day and night Th 
of your exertions is the salvation ul* men, and tin- 
believe, is not a light matter. It demand! a f> 
faith, a zealous piety, a cun.ta.it Be If -denial, I 
of heart, and soul, and life, to ..no absorbing int< 
If you would be happy and blessed inyoarmio 
must have a spirit which no difficult 
unbending as God's truth, and icth (, ,|\ |)rov i' 

dence. Your situation is peculiar: vou w.ll have not 
only the usual trials of a minister's life, but man; 

mg Iron, your place in this city, surrounded bv those 
who are warmly ami conscientiouslj Oj | 

faith, and separated from the intercourse of thoae who 
with you, believe Unitarian Christianity to be the reli- 
gion of the gospel. Your ministerial dories will be 

heavier, your language will be mure liable to misrepre- 
sentation, and your comluct will be more strictly watch- 
ed than those of most of your brethren. Hut vou hive 
also the conviction, founded on the Mu.lv of the Hrble 
that you hold the truth, and the confidence, restingon 
the character of God, that the truth shall prevail You 
have the example of other pastors who gave themselves 
to the cause of a pure faith in like circumstances, and 
who have seen that faith making sure progress, and 
spreading ,ts light through the clouds of prejudice and 
opposition, and who now look with confidence rather 



42 

than anxiety to its universal diffusion. It must be so 
here, unless the providence of God, which once permitted 
the darkness of error to exclude the religion of Jesus 
from almost every spot on the earth, should still delay 
the time, when that religion shall be recognised at once 
in its purity and simplicity. My brother, you can employ 
one argument, which, in itself, is able to vanquish the 
prejudices of men, and, without which, controversy can 
effect little You can exercise the irresistible eloquence 
of goodness A holy, humble, and charitable life is 
a testimony in your favour which must silence and con- 
vince your adversaries. They may deny your sincerity, 
may charge you with religious indifference, may call you 
unbeliever, but let your answer be, " I will show my faith 
by my works ;'' and though the bigoted may shut their 
eyes to the evidence, the community will judge the tree 
by its fruits Be not disheartened by the troubles which 
you may meet in the very entrance of your work. The 
burthen of cares and duties will be heaviest at first ; 
a scholar's life is not adapted to fit one for the perplex- 
ities of the ministry. You are thrown at once from the 
bosom of home, and the seclusion of study, into the new 
relations of the pastoral office. If you are too sanguine, 
you must bear disappointment; if you despond, you will 
destroy the energy that will be needed. Be of good 
courage. You are young ; so was Timothy when he re- 
ceived the injunction, let no man despise thy youth. 
You will be alone ; so was Paul when standing on Mars' 
hill, he spake as the servant of the one living God. 
Look at the saints of former times ; remember those 
who, in these latter days, have endured much, and re- 
signed much for the interests of pure Christianity. Faith, 
hope, and charity, these, my brother, are the three great 
virtues of the christian character, and are they not suf- 
ficient for the severest trials ? What difficulties shall 



43 

not faith surmount ? Our Saviour has said, nothing is 
impossible. What gloom shall not hope convert into 
brightness? What enemy shall not charity soften, if 
it cannot subdue? Did I just say you had left the bo- 
som of home ? You are cast into the midst of friends. 
You have forsaken your father's house at the call of 
duty, and this people have opened their arms to you. 
The protectors of your youth are far from you, but the 
associates of your manhood are gathering themselves 
around you. Your brethren in the ministry, who will 
rejoice in your success, are distant from you; none 
will be here to encourage you by their aid and coun- 
sel, but you will not be forgotten. Many remembrances 
and many hopes will rest upon you. Our ptmjeri will 
be offered to heaven for your welfare; our sympathy 
will be given you in trial and in success. Your name 
will be on our lips, and though we may seldom exchange 
this pledge of union, our thoughts, our solicitude, our 
hearts will be with you. We claim no authority over you. 
Never may we violate the principles which we assert, 
the independence of churches, the lights of conscience, 
and the freedom of private judgment. The hand' 
of fellowship shall always be the hand of help, but 
God forbid, that it should ever be the hand of tyranny. 
If you reciprocate the feelings, which, in the name of 
this council, and of the portion of christians which they 
represent, I have expressed, let me ask of you a similar 
pledge of love and remembrance. 

My friend and brother ; I have spoken for others ; 
I scarce dare to speak for myself. This is not a suit- 
able place for the exhibition of private emotions, but 
propriety does not forbid, and our past friendship de- 
mands, that I should once more proffer you this hand. 
I give it to you as the hand of one who has known 
your struggles, who confides in your character, and 

G 



44 

most truly wishes you success. I had indulged 
the hope that we should not be thus separated, that 
as we had passed the years of our youthful studies 
together, we -might assist each other in our active 
duties. The Providence of God has disappointed 
these hopes. He has placed you in a sphere of great 
usefulness. Look up; the field is one of immense ex- 
tent and promise. Enter upon your labour cheerfully ; 
enter upon it with christian resolution. We are united 
my friend, in the same undertaking. A few months only 
have elapsed, since I received the solemn charge which 
has this day been imposed upon you. The feelings of 
that time are still fresh ; they are recalled in fulness 
by the services of your ordination. "We have known 
each other's sentiments, doubts, and hopes. Let us pur- 
sue the same course of zealous duty, and though we 
may seldom meet in this world, we shall be prepared for 
a happy union in eternity. Go on then, my brother ; 
and God's blessing go with you. May you be happy in 
the approbation of a good conscience. May you rejoice 
in a successful ministry. May you be blessed with your 
people's love. May the aged receive you as a friend 
who will uphold their trembling steps ; may the young 
cluster around you as the guide to their inexperienced 
feet. You have given your youth to God, may he give 
you many days of health, and an old age of honour. 
And may you then be rich in the affections of those, 
whose infant minds you formed to piety. May you 
descend to a grave hallowed by many tears. May your 
memory be that of the just, and your portion be God's 
love for ever. 

To this Society, we present our sincere and hearty 
congratulations. We rejoice with you christian friends, 
in the promises of this day. You have struggled through 
much embarrassment and obloquy. You have sur- 



I 



45 

mounted difficulties that would have broken a les9 de- 
termined spirit. You have now found one who is ready 
to devote himself to your good, and tearing himself 
from the scenes of education, of domestic affection, and 
of early habits, to intrust his happiness to your hands. 
You will therefore receive him with no little kindness, 
and while he deserves your approbation, you will con- 
tinue to him the expressions of your gratitude. He 
will look to you for assistance, for indulgence, and for 
affection. Let him not look in vain. Should he err, 
remember his youth, and his perplexities. Do not de- 
mand of him more than he can perform. Do not bur- 
then him with ('uties, which, from his age and situation, 
it is impossible that he should discharge. Give him 
your entire confidence. He has shewn that he seeks 
not ease nor wealth, but usefulness, and that he may bo 
useful to you, he must know your characters. Listen 
to his instructions ; attend upon them, and let him see 
that you are interested by them. Let not the fervour 
of your zeal abate, when the excitement of this occasion 
shall subside. Be not wise merely in the things of con- 
troversy, and oh ! do not cherish the spirit of partv. It 
is at best an enemy forced to fight on the side of Chris- 
tianity. It is not the spirit of our religion, for the one 
is mild and charitable, the other is proud and selfish. 
You justly glory in the distinctions of being Unitarians, 
but it is a nobler privilege to be christians. Do not 
forget the greater in the less. The success of your 
minister, as well as of the doctrines which he maintains, 
will depend very much on your co-operation with him, 
by illustrating his instructions in your lives. Nothing 
will tend more to discourage him than your negligence. 
Nothing will be a better comment on his preaching than 
your holiness. His exertions will be confined to you 
and your families. He will be deprived of the religion? 



46 

sympathy, and in a great degree, of the social inter- 
course of others, while your secular and domestic rela- 
tions will bring you into constant collision with the 
community about you. On them you may exert a pow- 
erful influence. By the language of your daily con- 
duct, by the testimony of your blameless lives, you may 
win many to the profession of a faith which produces 
such virtues. Your minister will thus, by enkindling 
in you the graces of the christian character, save his 
own soul, have you for the crown of his rejoicing, and 
be a means of spreading pure and undefiled religion 
throughout the land. Brethren, to you, under the pro- 
vidence and grace of God, we commend him. His hap- 
piness he has linked with yours ; his joy must be your 
joy, his sorrow must be your sorrow. The progress of 
truth here, as elsewhere, must be gradual ; and it will 
be pursuing its silent course in the minds of men, when 
you may think that it is sleeping. Let your youthful 
pastor find from you counsel, aid, confidence, sympa- 
thy, and love. We do not distrust the sincerity of your 
hearts, nor do we. bplieve, that the promises of this day 
shall deceive us. The perseverance and union which 
have distinguished you under circumstances of peculiar 
trial, give the assurance of your future success. The 
first day of toil is over. The morning of a brighter has 
burst upon you : may it never be darkened by the mists 
of passion or variance. Be at peace among your- 
selves, and the clouds of persecution shall in vain ob- 
scure your name. They shall be converted into the 
splendid attendants of its progress, as its goes forth sub- 
duing, cheering, and enlightening. Peace be to this 
house. For our brethren and companions' sake, we say, 
peace be within its walls. And when they shall have 
crumbled into dust, may its worshippers be found united 
in a more glorious, even a heavenly temple* 



INAUGURAL 



aHtswDwiBs; 



l.l) % 



HEFORE THE UNIYERSITl IN CAMBRIDGE, 



AUGUST 10, 1810. 



B1 INDREW8 NORTON, 

\»Kiro(*S«cnt! 



CAMBRIDGE : 

PRINTED BT II I II .lAlin WIJ If] 

AT T.' 

:s & Hillbrd, n««ton Dookitorc, No. 1 CornliiJI. 

1819. 



NOTE. 

On account of the length of the following discourse a 
considerable portion of it was omitted in the delivery. The 
whole is now printed, 



CONSTITUTION AND RULES 

OF THE 

THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY 

OF THE 

l.MVERSITY Of CAMBRIDGE. 



The Theological Department, or Faculty of The 
of the University, shall comprise the President and the fol- 
lowing Prof 

l. TheAK'ord Pr of Natural Religion and Moral 

Philosophy, who shall lecture and teach in these t 
according to the statutes of the Alfbrd ProJeasorship, and 
the regulations estahliahed, not repugnant thereto, i>y the 
College law. 

! lie Hollis Professor of Divinity, wh > shall give iu- 
I'lion to the theological students in positive and con- 
troversial divinity, including the evidences, and principle- 
of natural religion, and the evidences, doctrines, and dot 

of revealed religion : said Professor performing all the du- 
ties of the Mollis Professorship Which he holds. 

3. The Hancock Professor of Eehrew and other Orien- 
tal Languages, who is to give instruction in tl rnm- 

. and in their application to the int. > u of the 

scriptui 

i. A Professor of Sacred Literature, or expositor) theol- 
ogy, who shall treat of the criticism and interpretation of 

the scriptures. 

5. A Professor of Pastoral Theology, who shall give in- 
struction in the duties of tin- pastoral offt e, and the com- 
position and delivery of sermons 



4 

6. A Professor who shall treat of sacred and ecclesiasti- 
cal history, including Jewish antiquities, and of church 

order. 

7. The Professors in either of the ahove branches may, 
in their instructions, omit the particular consideration of 
sucli subjects in their respective departments, as may be 
pointed out by the Corporation, said subjects being suffi- 
ciently discussed by other Professors and Instructers in the 
University. 

8. The Professor in the fourth department shall be de- 
nominated the Dexter Professor of Sacred Literature. 

9. The Dexter Professor, and the Professors of Pastoral 
Theology, and of Ecclesiastical History shall perform such 
duties in the theological instruction of the University, as 
may from time to time be assigned by the Corporation, al- 
ways including, with respect to the Dexter Professor, those 
specified by the Corporation of the College and the Trus- 
tees of the Society for promoting Theological Education at 
the University, who are in part the founders of this Profes- 
sorship. 

10. The Professors to be appointed shall have the privi- 
leges and powers pertaining to the Professors of the 
College generally, as well as make the usual promises and 
engagements. 

11. Graduates of any public College or University are 
permitted to reside at the University as students of divinity, 
having the assent of the Faculty of Theology, and conform- 
ing to the laws and regulations made for the government of 
such students and of resident graduates generally. 

12. Applications are to be made in person or by letter to 
one of the members of the Faculty, and when distance or 



other circumstances require, must be accompanied by testi- 
monials of good abilities, literary progress, and an unblem- 
ished chararter. 

13. All students in divinity are to be matriculated by 
signing with the President an engagement to conform to all 
the laws of the University made for their government. 

14. All theological students residing at the University, 
who have not completed the usual course of theological 
studios, shall belong to the seminary, and attend the public 
and private instruction of the same : provided the Faculty 
may, in special cases, dispense with portions of this attend 
ance. No one will receive the pecuniar? aid of the Insti- 
tution or have the usual testimonial, unless he lias been reg- 
ular in attending the course of exercises and studies pre- 
scribed, as well as exemplary in every part of his conduct. 

15. The Faculty will, at the beginning of each college 
year, and in the course of the year, when there may he oc- 
casion, make a report to the Corporation on the distribu- 
tion and application of the Hopkins foundations, the funds 
of the society for promoting theological education, and oth- 
er sums appropriated to the benefit of students in divinity ; 
and the orders for the sums allowed will he given half 
yearly by the President, he receiving previously to the issu- 
ing of any order, a certificate from the instructor or in- 
structors, on whom each student shall attend, that he has 
diligently pursued the course of studies and exercises ap- 
pointed. 

16. There shall be an annual examination of the Semi- 
nary by a Board of Visiters to be appointed for that purpose. 

JOHN T. KIRKLAND, President. 
Aug. 1819. 



INAUGURAL DISCOURSE 



A he liberality of our citizen?, and especi- 
ally of one distinguished individual, who 
bore a name which has long been honored, 
and which I hope >\ill long continue to be 
honored among us, having afforded new fa- 
cilities for theological instruction in this 
University, an additional professorship has in 
consequence been founded. About to enter 
on the duties of this new oflice, I have 
thought, that it would not be uninteresting 
or useless to speak of the extent and relations 
of the science of theology, or in other words, 
of the intellectual acquisitions and endow- 
ments required to constitute a consummate 
theologian. I can, it is true, do little more 
than lead you to an eminence, and point out 
hastily the grand features of the prospect 
which lies before us ; but even this rapid 
view may not be altogether unprofitable. 



Iii such a survey as I have proposed, it is 
in its relations to metaphysics, that theology 
may be first considered. It treats of God, 
and of man considered as an immortal being. 
Upon these subjects revelation has taught us 
truths the most important ; and some of the 
noblest and most powerful efforts of human 
reason have heen employed in deducing the 
same truths from the moral and physical 
phenomena by which we are surrounded. 
It is one part of the business of a theolo- 
gian to make himself familiar with those 
reasonings, by which the mind, now that it 
has been educated by christianty, is able, 
even when left to its own powers and resour- 
ces, to establish or render probable the truths 
of religion. He must become the interpre- 
ter of the works and providence of God ; 
and qualify himself to perceive the harmony 
between the two revelations which God has 
given us ; — that, which is taught us by the 
laws which govern the world, as they pro- 
ceed in their regular operation ; and that, 
whose divine origin was attested by the pres- 
ence of a power controlling and suspending 
those laws. He will find a perfect harmony 
between them ; and will perceive that the 



evidences of both, though derived from sour- 
ces the most remote from each other, flow 
together at last, and bear us on to one com- 
mon object, the truth of the essential prin- 
ciples of religion. 

Yet notwithstanding the strength of argu- 
ment by which these principles are support- 
ed, we cannot but remark that our conclu- 
sions are embarrassed by some difficulties ; 
and we know that scepticism lias labored to 
overthrow all our reasonings. The theologian, 
in pursuing his inquiries respecting these 
difficulties and objections, if he be determin- 
ed to follow them to the uttermost, will be 
obliged to go on to the very limits of human 
knowledge ; to the barriers which the mind 
has not yet passed, and which perhaps are im- 
passable. He must fix a steady attention upon 
ideas very abstract, shadowy and inadequate. 
Where the last rays begin to be lost in utter 
darkness, he must distinguish in the doubt- 
ful twilight between deceptive appearan- 
ces, and the forms of things really existing. 
He must subject to a strict scrutiny words 
and expressions which often deceive us, and 
often mock us with only a show of meaning. 
He must engage in complicated and diffi- 



10 

cult processes of reasoning, in which the 
terms of language, divested of all their usual 
associations, become little more than algebra- 
ic symbols ; and in pursuing these processes, 
he must proceed with the greatest attention 
and accuracy, because a single false step 
may render his conclusions altogether erro- 
neous. 

The inquiries to which we are led by the ob- 
jections of the sceptic, are curious, and in some 
respects important. But they are not those in 
which a man of sound mind will habitually de- 
light. He will pass from them to studies more 
satisfactory, and which have a nafore direct in- 
fluence upon the conduct and happiness of 
men, with feelings similar to those of the 
voyager, who having visited the barren though 
wonderful regions of polar solitude, where 
the sun dazzles without warming, is return- 
ing to a mild, inhabited, and cultivated cli- 
mate. In respect to the metaphysical objec- 
tions to our faith, it is to be remembered that 
the triumph over religion cannot be an early, 
but must be the last and most difficult achieve- 
ment of scepticism. The temple in which 
we worship is placed within the citadel of 
human reason ; and before it can be ap- 



11 

proached for the purpose of destruction, al- 
most all our knowledge must have been sur- 
rendered. He who doubts the existence 
of G«>d, has left himself no truth dependant 
on moral evidence, which he can reasonably 
believe. 

In natural religion, we learn the character 
of God by a wide induction from the laws of 
his moral government, and from the object* 
and phenomena of the physical world. Here 
then is another field of study opened to the 
theologian. We are surrounded by an un- 
known and immeasurable power, which is 
every moment producing motion and life, 
and manifesting itself by effects the most 
astonishing and admirable. AVe must study 
the character of this power in its works. In 
order to do this, we must borrow aid from 
that science which has wheeled in triumph 
through the signs of heaven, AYe must en- 
ter the lecture room of the anatomist, and 
learn how fearfully and wonderfully 7ve are 
made. And we must follow the student of na- 
ture to the fields, and woods, and waters, and 
inquire of the objects to which he directs us, 
what they can teach of their Maker. These 
studies are important, not merely as furnish- 



12 

mg materials for argument, but because 
they awaken, and render vivid, our feelings of 
devotion. In contemplating the perfections of 
God without reference to his works, they 
present themselves to us as metaphysical 
abstractions, which in their obscurity and 
vastness almost mock our comprehension. 
But when we turn to his works, we per- 
ceive his power, wisdom, and goodness em- 
bodied, as it were, and rendered visible. 

But our religious faith rests for its main, 
support on what we believe the declarations 
of God, communicated by Jesus Christ. What 
then is the evidence that Jesus Christ was 
indeed the messenger of God? This inquiry 
is connected with the whole history of God's 
miraculous dispensations, and will lead the 
theologian to the study of all the evidence 
relating to these subjects. Upon entering on 
this study, when he inquires what it is which 
is to be proved, he will find that a mass of 
statements and propositions of very differ- 
ent importance, have been blended togeth- 
er ; and his first object must be, to distin- 
guish and separate those, the truth of which 
it is indeed essential to maintain. He will 
then have for his purpose, to make himself 



43 

acquainted with the whole evidence, hy which 
these essential truths are to be defended, to 
view the subject in all its relations, and to be 
aware of every objection and difficulty. His 
faith must not be the offspring of prejudice 
and ignorance, confident only because it ha* 
not examined, and ready to think an insult a 
good answer to an objection : nor a timid 
and doubtful belief, always liable to be start- 
led by some unexpected disclosure, the re- 
sult of that state of mind, in which one lias 
proceeded in his inquires only so far, as to 
perceive that much remains to be settled. 
The proof of the miraculous dispensations nf 
God consists in a series of the most remark- 
able phenomena, which, if we reject the be- 
lief of such interpositions, can be accounted 
for by no other causes : and which have 
marked the whole history of man with a 
track of light, like that of the setting sun up- 
on the ocean. It is confirmed. I will venture 
to add, by the antecedent probability of such 
communications from God to man. In mak- 
ing himself acquainted with the evidences of 
our religion, as they have been commonly 
stated, the theological student will perceive, 
that it is only a portion of its proof which 



14 

has yet been collected and arranged ; and 
that in the most able works which we have 
on the subject, that of Paley for instance, is 
to be found only an abridgment, or a passing 
notice of many important arguments, while 
others are wholly omitted. Even in order 
to feel the full force of those arguments to 
which his attention may be directly called, 
he must apply the results of his own inqui- 
ries to the statements which may be laid be- 
fore him. We speak for instance of that 
evidence for our religion, which arises from 
the intrinsic divinity of its character. But 
in order to estimate this evidence justly, we 
must compare our religion with the systems 
of philosophy and morals by which it was 
preceded. It was indeed a most marvellous 
event, and wholly out of the sphere of natur- 
al causes, that one who had never entered the 
schools of human wisdom, who had lived all 
his life in the midst of the gross ignorance, 
the inveterate prejudices, and the habitual 
and degrading vices of Galilean Jews, sur- 
rounded by a people not more cultivated 
nor intellectual than those who now occupy 
the same land, that such a one should make 
known to mankind a universal religion, the 



15 

most pure, the most holy, and the most pow- 
erful iu its operation. But in order to feel 
in all its force how marvellous a thing this 
was, we must know how much, or rather how 
little, had been previously effected by the ef- 
forts of the wisest and most enlightened of 
men. We must study their works, and we 
must make ourselves acquainted with the 
moral and religious state of mankind, which 
preceded and was contemporary with the in- 
troduction of Christianity. — In considering 
the external evidences of our religion, the 
theologian, if he be determined to \iewthe 
subject in all its relations, will find himself 
conducted into the most difficult parts of ec- 
clesiastical history, placed upon dcbaieable 
ground, where there are guides enough to be 
sure, but few whom he can safely trust ; 
where he must compare the reports of one 
with those of another, and examine for him- 
self, and rely upon his own judgment. And 
though the result will be, I trust, the full con- 
firmation of his faith, yet the opinions with 
wbich he concludes, may not be altogether 
the same as those with which he commenced 
his inquiries. When he comes to the study 
of the scriptures, in proportion as he removes 



16 

all the accumulated rubbish of technical the- 
ology, under which their meaning has been 
buried, and obtains a distinct view of it, 
he will discern new and very striking evi- 
dence of the truth of our religion. It is 
evidence, but a small portion of which has 
yet been distinctly stated by any writer. 
We have indeed scarcely any work relat- 
ing to it, except that very valuable one of 
Paley, his Horse Paulinse. It is evidence 
which arises from the agreement of the New 
Testament with itself, the coincidence and 
correspondence of its different parts, and its 
agreement with all our knowledge respecting 
that state of things, which existed during the 
time of the first preaching of Christianity. 
The New Testament consists of different 
writings, comprizing accounts of our Sav- 
iour's ministry, some account of the minis- 
try of his apostles, particularly of that of St. 
Paul, many discourses of the former, and va- 
rious letters written by the latter. The 
whole history which we here find is consist- 
ent with itself; and the discourses and let- 
ters are consistent with the history, and even 
cannot be understood without a careful study 
of the latter ; nor for the most part without 



17 

forming a distinct conception of the particu- 
lar occasion of their delivery or composition. 
These discourses and writings reflect, as it 
were, the ever varying circumstances, which 
marked that most extraordinary state of 
things, produced by the ministry of our Sav- 
iour and his apostles. They have a relation 
throughout to the strong prejudices, the un- 
founded and extravagant expectations, the 
narrow conceptions, the limited knowledge, 
and the violent and vacillating passions of 
those to whom they were addressed. Nor ii 
this coincidence of which I speak confined 
to discourses and writings : it appears also 
in what was done hy our Saviour and his 
apostles. It is a correspondence of their 
words and actions to all that we know,** can 
rMDMI&bty infer, respecting (he very peculiar 
circumstances in which they acted and taught: 
a correspondence, at the same time, to which 
it was clearly not the purpose of the writer to 
direct the attention of his readers. This cor- 
respondence appears throughout the New- 
Testament, ramifying into numberless partic- 
ulars, spreading every where, and binding 
every part together. As we pursue our in- 
quiries, it assumes at last a character so re- 

3 



18 

markable and decisive, as I may venture to 
say, puts out of question all supposition 
of fiction in the history, or forgery in the writ- 
ings. No human artifice could approach to- 
ward giving such a perfect imitation of na- 
ture, with all its accidents, and all its minute 
and latent characteristics. And why has not 
this internal evidence of the truth of our re- 
ligion been more regarded ? I answer, be- 
cause the scriptures have been for the most 
part so imperfectly understood ; because 
their meaning has been seen blurred and 
distorted through the medium of gross theo- 
logical errors. It is a subject which particu- 
larly claims the attention of the theological 
student. 

The study of the Bible, and particularly of 
the New Testament, is, perhaps more than any 
other, the peculiar province of the theologian. 
In pursuing this study, he must acquaint him- 
self with all that collection of facts and rules, 
by the application of which the original text 
of the sacred writings is recovered as far as 
possible. He must be master of the lan- 
guages in which they are written ; an ac- 
quaintance with which should be one of the 
first, and will continue to be one of the last 



19 

objects of his attention. He must be, in the 
most comprehensive sense of the word, a 
philologist. The meaning of scripture is 
controverted in every part, and he must 
therefore be acquainted with the art of inter- 
preting language, an art, of the very existence 
of which, many of those who have decided 
most confidently respecting the sense of the 
sacred writings, appear to have been an holly 
ignorant ; and the principles of which have 
never yet, I think, been fully explained. To 
this end he must study the nature and con>ti- 
tution of language, generally, and as it appears 
in different particular forms in which it has 
existed. This is a subject which will lead him 
at once to the most curious and important 
branches of metaphysical inquiry, and one 
which is connected with the whole history 
of the revolutions and development of the 
human mind, and of the changes and ac- 
cidents of human opinions and sentiments. 
In tracing this history, he must learn to mark 
with a practiced eye, the varying compo- 
sition, and changeable coloring of human 
ideas, which are continually forming new 
combinations of meaning, while the old dis- 
appear, to be expressed by the same unalter- 



20 

eel words, while the same language remains 
in use, or by words apparently correspondent 
in the languages which may succeed it. 
Words, as well as coins, change their value 
with the progress of society.— By studying 
the character of language, the philologist and 
theologian will discover its intrinsic ambi- 
guity and imperfection. He will learn what 
has been but very imperfectly understood, 
that words taken alone are often inadequate 
to convey any one definite meaning ; and 
that the meaning which the words them- 
selves leave thus loose and unsettled, is to be 
fixed and defined by reference to extrinsic 
considerations. He will therefore perceive 
that a mere critical knowledge of the lan- 
guages in which the scriptures are compos- 
ed, (and the same is true of other writings,) 
is but the first step towards their explanation. 
In order to know in any particular instance, 
what is the true meaning of words, it is often 
necessary to know under what circumstances 
and relations they were used in that particular 
instance. The theologian therefore will pro- 
ceed to collect and arrange all that immense 
variety of facts and truths, in connexion with 
which the language of the scriptures must 



SI 

be viewed, in order to perceive its bearing 
and relations ; and some one or more of 
which is continually entering as a principal 
element into all those reasonings by which 
its sense is determined. With these facts 
and truths he will make himself familiar. 
Without previous knowledge of this sort, the 
words of the scriptures, or of any other ancient 
writings, will often convey em false ideas and 
impressions to the mind, as a historical pic- 
ture might give to one wholly ignorant of the 
story which forms its subject. 

I have said that the expositor of scripture 
must be a philologist in the most extensive 
sense of the word. But in order to this, he 
must have the feelings and imagination of a 
poet. Without these poetry cannot he un- 
derstood. Its interpreter must have the 
power of sympathizing with him by A\hom it 
is composed. The images and emotions of 
the writer must excite corresponding images 
and emotions in his own mind. But the 
Old Testament is full of poetry ; and in the 
New Testament the oriental and popular 
style which prevails, often requires no less 
than poetry itself, an acquaintance with all 
the uses of language, and with all the forms 



as 

in which feeling, passion, and imagination 
express themselves, in order to distinguish 
and disengage the mere literal meaning from 
all those images and ideas, with which it is 
associated. 

Bat another part of the business of a 
theologian is to trace the history of our reli- 
gion, and its effects upon the condition of so- 
ciety. In other words, he must be familiar 
with ecclesiastical history. In this study, 
one of the most interesting objects of atten- 
tion will be the origin and progress of those 
enormous errors, which have cast their shade 
over the christian world, and intercepted the 
influence of the gospel. He will discover 
that many of these errors belong to an earlier 
age than Christianity itself ; and that their 
sources are to be found in the superstitions, 
and still more in the philosophy, which ex- 
isted before our religion was preached to 
men. The converts to our faith did not yield 
up their minds to its reception with an entire 
renunciation of every former belief and pre- 
possession. They did not divest themselves 
of all previous trains of thought and reason- 
ing, and all previous imaginations and senti- 
ments. The light which spread over the 



v>< 



world was mingled with the darkness which 
before prevailed ; and God did not, as in the 
beginning, divide the light from the darkness. 
Men received much which was true, but they 
also retained much which was false ; and 
truth and falsehood grew up together, and 
constituted the religion which was professed. 
The past and present errors of Christians 
are many of them to be traced to a heathen 
origin, and especially to the heathen philoso- 
phy. The theologian therefore, who, in study- 
ing the evidences of our religion, had before 
been led to consider the previous condition, 
opinions, and character of mankind, will find 
himself conducted anew to the same subject 
by a different route, and brought to view it 
under a different aspect. The study of an- 
cient philosophy lies before him. lie must 
make himself familiar with forms of error, 
and modes of exhibiting truth, very different 
from those to which he has been accustomed. 
He must become, as it were, an inquisitive 
traveller in a strange country, among men 
who use a new language; and he will see 
around him much, of which he cannot at once 
comprehend the reason, the origin, or the 
relations. The philosophy of every age has 



24 

had a powerful influence upon the contem- 
porary forms of religion professed among 
Christians. But it is of essential importance 
to be acquainted with that philosophy, which 
prevailed when Christianity was first taught ; 
because this, as I have said, was the parent of 
manv of those errors which still exist, and 
which now, made hoary by time, are regarded 
with a veneration to which they are wholly 
without title. 

In the study of ecclesiastical history, in 
order to estimate justly the facts and charac- 
ters which it brings before us, a profound 
and thorough knowledge of human nature is 
required. And this study may reciprocally 
teach us more of the human character than 
perhaps any other. It will show us the best 
and worst passions operated upon by the 
strongest motives. It will teach us to 
think at once more highly and more humbly 
of man, and discover to us all his strength, 
all his weakness, and all his inconsistency. 
It will show us the strange forms in which 
his virtues may appear, and the infamous 
disguises which his vices may assume. It 
will show us the most remarkable and appar- 
ently the most heterogeneous combinations 



25 

of moral and intellectual qualities. It will 
present to us, in every variety, those complex 
characters which it is so difficult to estimate : 
because they exhibit the worldly and selfish 
passions in alliance with religion, and it is 
hard to determine to what point the latter is 
debased, or how fir the former may be modified 
by the connexion ; to what degree self decep- 
tion may exist, and how far it is to be admit- 
ted as an excuse ; or how far the errors and vi- 
ces of the ftge may be pleaded in apology for 
those of the individual. It will teach us, 
that even powerful minds m iy be paralyzed 
by the touch of superstition ; that there is 
no depth of debasement to which the human 
understanding* may not be reduced : and that 
there is nothing so unmeaning, so false, so 
shocking, or so self contradictory, that it may 
not be received for divine truth ; as in some 
ages and countries, animals the most nox- 
ious and contemptible have been worshipped 
as deities. 

But one of the most grateful studies of the 
theologian is to trace the real influence of 
the true principles of Cliristianity. He will 
delight to observe how much they have done 
to raise the character of man, and to improve 

4 



26 

the condition of society. Going back into 
past ages, and becoming, as it were, a citizen 
of Athens or of Rome, making himself famil- 
iar with all that can be known of their man- 
ners, morals, religion, and political institu- 
tions, entering their schools to listen to the 
teaching of their philosophers, and their 
temples to observe their rites of worship, 
he will perceive how much the imagination 
has often disguised their moral depravity, 
their ignorance, and their miseries ; and will 
return to offer up thanks to God in a Chris- 
tian church, that he was born among Chris- 
tians. 

The proper office of religious belief is the 
formation of character. Our faith teaches 
us, that we shall be happy or miserable in 
the future life, as we have done good, or done 
evil in the present. But what is good ? 
what is virtue ? These are inquiries which 
the theologian has to answer. It may be 
said, perhaps, that as far as regards practice, 
they are easily settled. When the question 
is merely, whether some particular action be 
lawful or not, this, I allow, is easily settled, 
in the great majority of cases of common oc- 
currence, by one who will not let his passions 



27 

triumph over his judgment. But, at the same 
time, it is not to be forgotten, that different 
nations, different sects of Christians, and dif- 
ferent individuals have held opposite opin- 
ions upon many subjects of morals of no 
small practical importance* You think relig- 
ious persecution, a profanation of the name of 
Christianity, and an outrage upon the first 
principles of natural justice. But a little 
more than a century ago, it was thought to be 
one of the first duties of a Christian commu- 
nity, and there was not a Christian coimnu- 
nity in the world by which this duty was neg- 
lected. I certainly do not mean to question 
the correctness of the decided opinion and 
strong feeling, which we all now have upon 
this subject ; but if any one be in the habit 
of ascribing a very high value to the authori- 
ty of the church, it may startle him to recol- 
lect, that he has the authority of all Christen- 
dom against him from the fifth century to 
the end of the seventeenth. The question 
respecting persecution we may now indeed 
regard as at rest. But there have been 
many other mistakes in the Christian world 
as gross, though not quite as mischievous. 
Every one acquainted with ecclesiastical his- 



28 

tory knows, that very erroneous opinions 
hive prevailed respecting the nature of Chris- 
turn perfection, or in other words, respecting 
the nature of moral virtue. They have pre- 
vailed, and they still exist in a greater or less 
degree at the* present day. There are too, at 
the present day, questions of no small practi- 
cal importance, relating to particular points 
of morals, which are agitated among us. Some 
Christians, entitled to much respect for their 
virtues, deny the right of defensive war. 
There are, to give another example, some 
who allow a license in interpreting promises, 
affirmations, and oaths, which appears to oth- 
ers in a high degree criminal ; and who main 
tain, for instance, the lawfulness of professing 
to believe articles of faith which they do not 
believe. The nature and extent of the du- 
ties of active benevolence, of those duties 
which require something to be done, in con- 
tradistinction from those which require some- 
thing to be avoided, are very imperfectly un- 
derstood. Different men have different notions 
of right and wrong, and estimate very different- 
ly the requisitions of duty; and they adopt in 
consequence very different modes of conduct. 
As it respects the principles of morals, 



there is still less agreement than with regard 
to the practice. There are moralists, who 
contend that some one particular motive, 
which they select from all others, is in every 
case necessary to constitute an action virtuous. 
There are others, who allow that there are 
many motives which all partake of the nature 
of virtue. Those too who admit but one, dif- 
fer most widely from each other as to the na- 
ture of this one ; some, for instance. Revolving 
all virtue into perfect selfishness* and others 
into perfect benevolence. With different 
opinions respecting morals, men may prac- 
tise in a considerable degree alike ; but it 
would be idle to contend, that their opinions 
have no influence upon their practice, and 
none upon their character and happiness* 
From the inseparable connexion, which I 
have stated, between theology and moral-, it 
is the business of the theologian, as well as 
the moral philospher, to study the principles 
of the latter science, and to trace out their 
true bearing upon the conduct of men. He 
knows but little of the subject, who does not 
know that these are inquiries, which will try 
and task the understanding to its utmost 
strength. Morality is not to be determined 



30 

by our first impressions ; nor is it a matter 
of intuitive judgment. We cannot be sure 
that all which we have been taught concerning 
it is true. It has been too hastily said that 
it is a science which admits of no discoveries. 
Morality is now better understood than in 
former times, and it will, we may believe, be 
better understood by our posterity, than it is 
by us. 

The ultimate objects of a theologian should 
be to improve his own character, and the mor- 
al condition of his fellow men. But in or- 
der to effect the latter purpose, it is necessa- 
ry to understand the human character. The 
complicated machinery of the mind is easily 
deranged ; and no small mischief has been 
often produced by the ill directed attempts 
of the ignorant and violent to regulate and put 
it in motion. You have undertaken to be a 
guide to the erring, and an instructer of the 
ignorant. You have undertaken to lead men 
in the path of virtue and holiness. Take 
care that you do not repel. them from it, or 
lead them astray. It is not so simple a work 
as you may imagine. A sentence may undo 
the effect of a sermon. It is the office of a 
theologian to administer the medicine of the 



31 

mind ; and in order to do this, he should he 
acquainted with its general constitution, and 
the diseases to which it is liable. And how 
is this necessary knowledge of human nature 
to he acquired ? In the first place, by distinct- 
ly perceiving the truth, that it is a kind of 
knowledge which may and ought to be ac- 
quired ; that it does not come merely by 
chance or by intuition. Every one judge* 
of the characters of those around him : hut 
how few judge correctly ? In no science is it 
so necessary, as in the science of human na- 
ture, for the learner to be first convinced of 
his ignorance. In order to remove this ig- 
norance, we must study our own hearts. 'We 
must be in the habit of analyzing those com- 
plex aggregates of motives from which we 
usually act. and of giving to every individu- 
al motive its true name. We must observe 
how we ourselves are affected by the actions 
and words of others, how often the effect pro- 
duced is different from that intended, and we 
must remark why it is so. We must study 
human life as it lies around us, presenting 
phenomena scarcely less various, and scarce- 
ly less difficult of explanation, than those of 
the material world. We must remark the in- 



S2 

lluenee of those circumstances, which oper- 
ate so powerfully to mould the character in 
its formation, and to produce those subse- 
quent changes, which often render it, in ad- 
vanced life, not less different from what it 
was in youth, than the countenance itself \ 
so that like that it retains only something like 
the outline of its former features. We must ac- 
quaint ourselves with the principle of associa- 
tion, that great law of the mind, which it is so 
important to regulate ; and which, when not 
controlled from within or without, operates 
with such blind agency, binding together 
thoughts and sentiments and feelings in the 
most mischievous connexion. We must ob- 
serve how often this law is directed to the 
production of evil, by the want of considera- 
tion, or judgment, or temper in those who 
undertake the business of moral instruction. 
We must study the volume of human histo- 
ry with its numberless pages, and learn the 
nature of man from his past actions and 
works. W"e must be acquainted with those 
productions, in which the human character 
is justly exhibited by the great masters of the 
art, and in which poetry and eloquence give 
a vivid expression of human feelings and sen- 



34 

timcnts. We must study those writings in 
which a ruild philosophy has shed a steady 
illumination upon the mind and heart of man : 
and those also, in which, as in the histories of 
Tacitus, flashes are, every now and then, 
breaking forth, which send light into the re- 
cesses where the passions hide themselves. 
I touch rapidly upon some of the more prom- 
inent objects of attention, and leave others 
without notice. But the knowledge of human 
nature is a science ; and if in this, as in other 
branches of knowledge, some have a natural 
aptitude for its acquisition more than others. 
yet our acquirements will depend much upon 
our exertions. It is a science too, which, 
though the fact does not seem to have been 
generally observed, has shared with every 
other in the progress of improvement. Our 
knowledge of all those principles and motives, 
which affect and influence the mind and heart 
of man, is more extensive and correct than 
the knowledge of those who have preceded 
us. 

To complete the character of a perfect 
theologian, and to qualify one for those duties 
to which among us a theologian is commonly 
called, he must be an eloquent writer and 



34 

speaker. Knowledge of human nature is the 
foundation of eloquence, but it is not the only 
requisite to its attainment. To write or speak 
so as powerfully to affect others, one must 
study those arts by which the mind is disci- 
plined to attain this object, arts not of arbi- 
trary invention, as some have imagined, but 
founded deep in the essential principles of 
human nature. The clear perception of truth 
will not alone give us power to exhibit it dis- 
tinctly. To feel strongly ourselves is not the 
only thing required to enable us to produce 
strong sympathy in others. But on these 
topics I forbear to dwell. He who would 
understand what force and what effort of mind 
are necessary to consummate eloquence, may 
study those works, in which the great Roman 
orator has at once celebrated and exemplified 
the art of which he was master. 

It remains to consider what preparatory 
studies are required in the attainment of the- 
ological knowledge. A theologian must be 
familiar with the ancient languages. But this 
is not all. As it respects the modern lan- 
guages, we must not confine ourselves to the 
sources of information which may be found in 
our own. There are manv works of much 



35 

value to a theologian in the French and Ger- 
man. In Germany, for the last forty or fifty 
years, the science of theology lias been more 
cultivated than in any other country ; though 
certainly not altogether with the happiest re- 
sults. Nobody, I trust, will imagine, that I 
admire the licentious, and, as it seems to me, 
the most extravagant and untenable specula- 
tions of some of the modern German theolo- 
gians. In reading their works, I find what I 
cannot but regard as theories and arguments 
of impalpable inanity ; I seem, like JEpeai 
when entering the confines of the dead, to be 
passing through a region of monstrous shad- 
ows, and to be, like him, pursuing a journey, 

Quale per incertam Lunam, sub luce maligna, 
Kst iter in svlvis. 

Some of these theologians, who have attained 
a certain degree of celebrity out of their own 
country, are, I think, little entitled to any kind 
of respect. To others of them, I should be 
disposed to apply the character which Thirlbv, 
in the celebrated dedication of his edition of 
Justin Martyr, gives of Isaac Vossius, a char- 
acter which could not be more descriptive of 
any individual, than it is of a class of writers. 
" He had great learning, superior genius, and 



36 

judgment too, which, if not very great, was 
enough and more than enough for one, 
who, unless I am entirely deceived, cared but 
little about discovering the truth upon any 
subject. He made it his object to seek for 
and invent new, out of the way, and wonder- 
ful opinions in criticism, in philosophy, and 
in theology. Whether they were true or not, 
he left to be examined by those who might 
think themselves interested in the matter."* 
But this character is far from being applicable 
to the whole body of modern German theolo- 
gians. There are many who are not entitled 
to the praise ; and some who are not obnox- 
ious to the censure. Some have executed 
laborious works of great value ; and others 
have written with much sobriety and good 
sense, as well as learning and ingenuity. As 
it respects the mass of those works, with 



* " Erant in eo homine multse literse, ingenium excellens, 
judicium etiam, si non maximum, at tantum quantum ei 
satis superque fuit, qui, nisi omnia me fallunt, quid in quavis 
re verum esset, leviter curavit perspicere. Satis habuit 
nova, devia, mirabilia, in critica, in philosophia, in theolo- 
gia, quserere et excogitare : vera anne falsa essent, id vera 
aiiis exquirendum reliquit, qui sua istuc interesse exists 
marent."' 



37 

which we can become acquainted only through 
a knowledge of the German language, their 
value, without doubt, has been by some con- 
siderably overrated; nor would it be safe to 
recommend the indiscriminate study of them 
to one apt to estimate the truth of opinions 
by their novelty. But still the value of many 
of these works is such, as to render a knowl- 
edge of the language very desirable to the 
theological student, and necessary to a con- 
summate theologian. 

In enumerating the intellectual qualifica- 
tions necessary, 1 have perhaps coin i need you. 
that it is impossible to be a theologian. In the 
highest and most comprehensive Bense of the 
word, I do not know but it ma\ be so. I 
shall have done some service, ii I have con- 
vinced you, that it is no eas\ thing to acquire 
those qualifications, which a theologian, in 
the more popular sense of the word, may be 
fairly expected to possess. More, a great 
deal more, is necessary than a familiar ac- 
quaintance with some system of technical 
divinity, and with the arguments by which 
this is usually defended. Much more is re- 
quired than that knowledge which a man 
may collect from reading a few books in our 



38 

own language, and those perhaps the books 
of a particular sect. Much more than a fa- 
miliarity with those metaphysical quibbles, 
which show how much morbid ingenuity 
may remain, while common sense is entirely 
prostrated ; and which, at the same time, like 
words of magic, darken the whole creation of 
God to those by whom they are pronounced. 
Much more than to be able to quote a mass 
of texts indiscriminately from different books 
of the Bible, and to interpret them conform- 
ably to the use of words in that theological 
dialect, which we may have learnt in child- 
hood. And much more is required than a 
facility in running through all those errors, 
which our church, or our party, may have 
faithfully preserved, since the time when the 
science, of which I speak, lay in a state of the 
lowest debasement. True theology has little 
to do with any of these acquirements. It is 
a science of vast extent and dignity, embrac- 
ing all the knowledge which directly or re- 
motely concerns man as an immortal being. 
We believe, indeed, and we regard it as the 
glory of the science, that its most important 
truths, and the main arguments by which 
these are defended, may be made intelligible 



39 

to all; that in its last results it coincides with 
the first judgments of unprejudiced reason; 
and that the man of plain good sense, who 
exercises his understanding, and thinks for 
himself, and the profound and intelligent 
scholar, will find that there are no essential 
points of difference in their opinions. We may 
all arrive at last upon common ground, where 
the highest and humblest may meet together. 
But if any one refuse to submit to the decis- 
ions of our natural reason, and the dictates 
of our natural feelings; if he come to us, 
teaching what lie calls incomprehensible prop- 
ositions, and truths above reason; if he main- 
tain doctrines abhorrent to all our best senti- 
ments respecting God and his moral govern- 
ment ; and if lie require us to believe the sys- 
tem which he has received ; we have a right 
to require of him in return, what are his 
qualifications to discuss these subjects ? How 
extensively has he examined, how profoundly 
has he thought upon their nature and relations? 
How thoroughly has he acquired all that pre- 
paratory knowledge, which is necessary in 
their investigation ? What is the compass of 
his studies, and what the reach of his faculties, 
that he thinks his judgments of so much 



40 

value, and his censures of so much authority? 
lias lie in fact gone through that long course of 
discipline, necessary to enable him to decide 
questions of science and criticism, as they 
arise in the study of theology ? We shall find, 
in many cases, that our new teacher is just as 
well qualified for the wort which he has 
undertaken, as one with or without a little 
elementary knowledge of mathematics, would 
be qualified to decide on the truth of the dem- 
onstrations of Newton or La Place. Is theolo- 
gy, the most profound and extensive of scien- 
ces, the only one in which ignorant presump- 
tion may be allowed to dogmatize ? It has 
indeed done this, and it has done much more. 
It has oppressed and persecuted. Hence it is 
that the progress of truth has been so slow and 
embarrassed. The operation of vulgar pre- 
judices and passions has restrained the intel- 
lect of the wisest, and checked the courage of 
the boldest ; and the science has in conse- 
quence not yet attained that rank and esti- 
mation which belong to it. It has been de- 
graded by the irruptions of ignorance and 
barbarism ; its provinces have been seized 
upon, and the rightful possessors of the soil 
driven awav. 



41 

I shall then have effected something, if 1 
have given you any just views of the impor- 
tance and dignity of this science. It is in 
truth the highest philosophy, including every 
thing most interesting in speculation and 
practice. In proportion as it is better under- 
stood, and tauglit, the minds of men will be 
more enlightened, and their moral principles 
and feelings elevated and improved. And it 
will be better understood and taught. The 
obstacles which have opposed its progress are 
continually giving way. The human under- 
standing will not much longer submit to such 
reasoning on the subjects of theology, as on 
every other subject it has learned to treat 
with contempt. The prejudice, before which 
the world bowed but yesterday, * ill tomorrow 
find none so poor to do it reverence* Let 
us consider how much the cause of true reli- 
gion, and virtue, and happiness, for they are 
all inseparably connected, has been advaneed 
even during the two la>t centuries. Let us 
consider how much may be gained in the ; 
to come, if we are but faithful to our posteri- 
ty, and they are but faithful to themselves. 
It is but two centuries since Grotius lived : 

6 



since the time when he was struggling against 
ignorance, and persecution, and oppositions 
of science falsely so called, to guide his con- 
temporaries in the way to truth. His con- 
temporaries, in return, attempted to confine 
and extinguish within the walls of a prison, 
that light which was to spread itself through 
the world. They drove him from his native 
land ; and when the shades of death were 
about to close upon him, he might have look- 
ed round and seen not a single country free 
from the oppression of ecclesiastical tyranny; 
and only one in which any religion unmixed 
with the grossest error enjoyed even a 
doubtful toleration; only one where a few 
harassed individuals had found a temporary 
refuge, from which they were just about to 
be driven. — What deep and holy joy would 
have filled the mind of this great man, if a 
prophetic vision could have been accorded to 
him of what we now behold around us ; if 
amid his labors, and disappointments, and 
sufferings, he could have been assured, that 
he had not labored nor suffered in vain ; if he 
could have foreseen that in this country, — 
which was then just appearing within the 



48 

political horizon, but which even then had 
attracted his attention, and been one object of 
his extensive studies, — a vast empire was to 
be established, throughout which the princi- 
ples of religious liberty should be fully recog- 
nized, and in which such a large portion of 
the community should understand so well the 
real character, and feel so powerfully the true 
influence of our religion. But there is a 
promise of fairer and happier days to the 
whole civilized world. The light of Chris- 
tianity has been obscured, and men have been 
travelling in darkness. But the thick vapours 
which concealed earth and heaven are break- 
ing away; and we begin to perceive the 
beautiful prospect which lies before us, and 
the glittering of spires and pinnacles in the 
distance. 

In enumerating the intellectual acquisi- 
tions necessary to constitute a consummate 
theologian, I have felt some apprehension, 
like that which Cicero expresses, when about 
to speak of those requisite in an orator: 
"Yercor ne tardem studia multorum, qui 
desperatione debilitati, experiri nolint, quod 
se assequi posse dtfTidant.'' In respect to this, 



44 

however, I may say as he does : "Sed par est 
omnes omnia experiri, qui res magnas,et mag- 
no opere expetendas, concupiverunt. Quod 
si quein aut natura sua, aut ilia prsestantis 
ingenii vis forte deficiet, aut minus instruetus 
erit magnarum artium disciplinis ; teneat ta- 
men eum cursum, quem poterit. Prima enim 
sequentem, honestum est in secundis, tertiis- 
que consistere." All the knowledge which 
the theological student acquires will be valu- 
able. Whatever faculties he cultivates maybe 
turned to account. It would be a poor rea- 
son to neglect to do any thino* because there 
© * ©■ 

is so much which may be done to advantage. 
It is to our clergy that we must look for a 
body of learned theologians. It is through 
them principally, that the benefits of this 
science are to be derived to the community. 
But in order that they may become qualified 
for their office, the means of education must 
be afforded them ; and leisure must be afford- 
ed them to pursue their studies, when the 
work of education is finished. The standard 
of preaching is very high with us ; and it 
certainly is not desirable that it should be 
lowered. But this being the case, the mere 



45 

weekly round of a clergyman's labors has 
been found in some situations too severe, and 
even destructive of health and life. We have 
witnessed the terrible spectacle of men of the 
finest genius perishing under the slow torture 
of unremitted mental exertion. Something 
has been done to prevent the recurrence of 
this awful calamity ; and means might be 
easily devised — but it is not here the place to 
point them out — to lessen that pressure of 
duties which is still too great. It is with the- 
ology, as with every other department of 
knowledge and literature ; if we would have 
them flourish among us, we must show that 
we are able to estimate their value, and the 
worth of those services which are devoted to 
their cultivation. We must not be slowly 
ivise, nor meanly just. In conferring public 
rewards, there is nothing more opposite to true 
wisdom, than a calculating spirit of parsimo- 
ny. Our literary men have been pursuing 
their labors under peculiar disadvantages ; 
and we must be ready to afford every facility 
and every encouragement to their exertions ; 
to extend a steady patronage to our literary 
institutions, to increase our public libraries. 



46 

and to enlarge all our means of knowledge. 
We must be generous, and considerate, and 
kind ; ready to praise and approve where 
praise and approbation are merited ; liberal 
in our rewards, and reasonable in our de- 
mands. 

If we would not have our country, with all 
its immeasurable resources, become a sort of 
barbaric empire : if we would not have a half- 
civilized population spread over our soil, ig- 
norant of all which adorns, and ennobles, and 
purifies the character of man ; if we would 
not be overrun with every form of fanaticism 
and folly ; if we desire that our intellectual 
and moral rank should keep pace with our un- 
ceasing enlargement as a nation ; if we de- 
sire that just notions of religion, and correct 
principles of duty should manifest their in- 
fluence, and convey their blessings through 
the community ; if we love our native land, 
and rejoice in its honor, and should be hum- 
bled in its degradation ; we must recollect 
that good and evil are before us, and that it 
is for us to choose which we will ; but that 
the one is not to be avoided, nor the other se- 
cured, by accident. What we may becorffe 



47 N 

will depend upon ourselves ; not upon what 
we may wish, but upon what we may do. The 
character of its intellectual men gives its 
character to a nation. That literature which 
is without morals and without Christian faith, 
like the literature of France during the age 
of Voltaire, is one of the worst evils to which 
God in his anger ever abandons a people. 
That literature which throughout regards 
men as his creatures and as immortal beings. 
is one of the greatest blessings which he ever 
confers. As for those who are engaged in 
the studies of which I have been speaking, 
they have motives enough, in whatever situa- 
tion they may be, to call forth all their efforts. 
But in our country, where so much is at 
stake ; where the last experiment seems to 
be making, to determine what man may be- 
come, when placed in the most favorable 
circumstances ; where every thing is in a 
forming state, and so much depends upon 
the impressions now received, and the direc- 
tion now given, the motives of which I speak, 
acquire an overwhelming force. What must 
be the responsibility of those who are en- 
gaged in studies, which have so direct an in- 



48 

fluence upon the character and condition of 
men ! And what consciousness of desert 
can be more honorable or more animating 
than his, who feels that he is directing all 
his efforts, that he is devoting the whole ener- 
gy of his mind, that he is pouring himself 
out like water, to swell the tide, which is to 
bear his country on to happiness and glory ! 




t^jf& M. 



The Mystery of Christ. 



SERMON 



DELIVERED IN THE CITY OF WASHINGTON, 



October 7, 1821. 



CATION BY THE REV. ANTHONY KOHLMANN ; 



The First Number of which professes to contain 

A COMPLETE REFUTATION OF THE FUNDAMENTAL 
PRINCIPLES OF UNITARIANISM. 



By ROBERT LITTLE. 



WASHINGTON: 

PRINTED AND SOLD BY W. COOPER, SOLD ALSO BY 
P. THOMPSON, & BY F. LUCAS, BALTIMORE. 

1821. 



PREFACE. 



The following discourse was not composed with a view 
to publication; hut having intentionally a bearing on the 
late attack upon the system of Unitarianisni by Mr. Kohl- 
mann 9 and also upon the violent unchristian-like abuse heaped 
on its every Sunday from certain pulpits in this neighbour- 
hood ; the congregation to whom it was addressed solicited 
it to be printed. 

We have no complaint against Mr. K.. or other*, for dis- 
cussing and attempting to refute our opinions. We wish to 
have »hein discussed; we have no objectioji to be refuted, if 
our opponents are able to do so. Bui we would have them 
defer announcing their triumph till they are rare of it There 
Was good advice riven to an ancient king, which it may he 
advantageous to them to recollect, »< let not him that girdeth 
on his harness boast himself as he that putteth it <»tV." 

The full examination of Mr. t's hook, will doubtlec 
undertaken in due time: and probably the Unitarian Miscel- 
lany will be the vehicle of his answer. In the present Ser- 
mon and Notes, only Ins un scriptural notion about religion* 
mysteries is the object of notice. Hut as this is an error of 
fundamental importance to the whole Trinitarian scheme, 
whether adopted by Catholics or Protestants, it is desirable 
to call their attention to what the New-Testament teaches 
on this subject. Or whether they will attend impartially to 
this inquiry or not, we earnestly wish that Unitarians may 
have a scriptural and consistent view of it. 



A SERMON, 



Kphesians ill. I. The .Mystery of Chi it. 

Biblical critics have entertained doubts concerning 
the accuracy of (lie inscription of this epistle, a> it stands in 

our received versions, and indeed in all the modern Greek 
copies. For certainly there is something in it scarcely com- 
patible with the opinion of its being originally addressed to 
the Ephesians. We know that Paul spent three years at 
and in the neighbourhood of Ephesus, planting the Gospel 
there, and with very distinguished success. It appears that 
he was personally intimate with the principal disciples in that 
city, and had much private and confidential intercourse with 
them. In addressing the elders of the Kphesian church, 
whom he sent for to meet him at Miletus, on his journey to 
Jerusalem, he said " Ye know from the first day that I came 
into Asia, after what manner I have been with you at all 

seasons, serving the Lord with all humility of mind and 

how I kept back nothing that was profitable unto you, but 
have showed y r ou, and have taught you publicly, and from 
house to house." " Watch, and remember that by the space 
of three years, I ceased not to warn every one, night and 
clay, with tears." Acts xx. 18, 19, 20, 31. Now how are 
these facts to be reconciled with what is said in the con- 
nexion of our text ? " If ye have heard of the dispensation 
of the grace of God which is given me to you -ward." " How 



6 

thai by row.iation lie made known unto me the mystery, as. 
I wrote afore in a few words; whereby when ye read, ye may 
understand my knowledge in the mystery of Christ."* ^'as 
if possible that the Ephesians needed to be informed of t ; is, 
or could they be strangers to Paul's pretensions and minis- 
try ? This surely appears very like addressing persons 
with whom he had no personal intimacy. 

To solve this difficulty, it has been remarked, that one 
very ancient manus#ipt, and several early copies of this 
epistle, have not the word Ephesus in ch. 1, v. I. By some 
earlv writers it was called the epistle to the Laodiceans, and 
we know from Coloss. iv. 16. that Paul did write a letter 
to Laodicea, which, if this be not the same, is not now extant. 
" When this epistle is read amon£ you, cause that it be read 
also in the church of the Laodiceans ; and that ye likewise 
read the epistle from Laodicea." If it be so, I think the 
present inscription may be accounted for: for as the Colos- 
sians were to send their epistle to Laodicea, and Paul's let- 
ter to the Laodiceans was to be sent to Colosse, making them 
both a sort of circular to those churches, and perhaps to the 
other churches in lesser Asia, we may reasonably infer that 
the Laodicean epistle would in its turn be sent to Ephesus, 
which was the next great city to Colosse, on the shore of 
the Agean sea. Here the original writing might remain, and 
as the Laodiceans very early became lukewarmf and depart- 
ed from the faith, the name of the church that retained it 
might become permanently attached to it. These remarks 
may appear to some unimportant, but they show that this 
epistle may have been written by Paul — may have gone cir- 
cuitously to Ephesus without being originally addressed to 
that church — and consequently the passage connected with 
our text may be perfectly consistent with the history of 
Paul's labours in planting the gospel there. These conclu- 
sions are of use to those who revere the apostolical writings, 
and who are anxious to ascertain and settle every thing that 

* Ephes. iii. 2, 3, 4. f Rev. iii. 14—16. 



pertains to their authenticity and genuineness.* Patient. 
lid, an free e an ination, will in many ca-es remove or 
lessen those difficulties and discrepancies, which, to persons 
unreasonably sceptical, may appear insuperable. 

Let us now proceed to consider the words of the text. 
\Ve shall enquire 

I. What Paul intended by — the Mystery of Christ. 

II. AYhy he gave this subject the appellation, Mystery* 

Some general inferences from the whole will close the 
discourse. 

What did Paul intend by the mystery sf Christ . : It i- 
curious to observe hov much our thoughts on religious to] 
arc governed and led by the prepossessions of education : 
and lmw the ideas we early associated with certain phra seo 
logy, will rise and recur by the mere Bounds that have for- 
merly excited them, without respect to the obvious sense <>i 
the passages in which such phrases occur. Thus, upon the 
first reading these words, "tin- mystery of Christ*" a good 
orthodo] christian would naturally expect that Paul was 
about to discourse upon the sublime and mysterious union of 
the divine and human natures in his one Person — or perhaps, 
the ineffable mysterv of his eternal Bonship and essential 
union with the Father — or the mystery Of his holv incarna- 
tion — or his beiny; our substitute and representative, bearing 
our sins, and transfering to us his rigkrteousne* — or the 
mysterv of his union with the church, so that they form one 
mystical body, and truly partake of his fesl and blood. 
These, and some other points connected with them, are now 
considered so essential to the scheme of redemption, that a 
sermon without these prominent features i- thou It to con- 
tain nothing of Christianity. How very extraordinary it must 

* S ' more on this subject in Paley's Horx Paulinae, Article 
Epistle to the Ephesians, No. IV. 



8 

WBm to such persons, that the "mystery of Christ?' men- 
tioned by Paul in our text, does not contain, nor even allude 
to, anv one of these subjects. Because we affirm and attempt 
to prove, that the christian world has been mistaken as to the 
origin of these doctrines, which now pass current for evan- 
gelical truth, and that they did not constitute the gospel as it 
was first delivered by the apostles, we are assailed from 
almost every pulpit, on every Sabbath, with the overflowings 
of illiberality, bigotry, and ignorance. We are denounced 
as the enemies of God and religion, as out of the pale of sal- 
vation, and unworthy of the slightest expression of christian 
charity. With the most pious indifference about the ever- 
lasting agonies which they proclaim as our inevitable portion, 
the Methodist, the Presbyterian, the Episcopalian, and the 
Catholic, forget awhile the bitter differences that subsist 
among themselves, and unite to prognosticate, and hope for, 
our damnation ! 

But why is all this alarm ? Why this strong effervescence 
of the odium theologicum ? May one be permitted to ask of 
these terrified religionists, what is it that has aroused you thus ? 
* Has the stone, cut out without hands, smitten the colos- 
sal image which your fathers set up, so that you fear it will not 
be able to stand ? Alas ! your fears are greater than our hopes. 
We did not apprehend that the slender perceptions of truth 
to which we had attained, and which we are enabled so im- 
perfectly to communicate, would have produced such effects 
as these. Yet, whatever you may feel or fear, we entreat 
you, be not rancorous, abusive, or profane. We cannot con- 
tend with you thus. Make not too free with Jove's thunder. 
That is a dangerous weapon, too heavy for mortal hands to 
wield. If you will confine yourselves to calm reasoning, or 

* « A stone was cut out without hands, which smote the image 
upon his feet —Then was the Iron, the Clay, the Brass, the Silver 
and the Gold broken to pieces together, and became like the chaff of 
the summer threshing floors ; and the wind carried them away, that 
no place was found for them ." Dan. ii. 34, 35. 



9 

dispassionate appeals to scripture, we will meet yon there. 

But mere assertion, wordy declamation, and vi -per- 

sion d as nothing — worse than r. i 

are confessions of weakness. These sh;: : 

are pointless : tlicv are thrown too by an unsteady hi 

indistinct vision, and reach not their ma s no 

objection to the a 

v: if we speak not according to 
light in u .** 

To return to ( We <>V 

cl early and fully explains i 

■ 
not made known unto I 
unto hi^ holy apostles and proptv 
made knou n ? Why •• that the 

heirs, and of the same body, and pai "ho- 

mise in crhi8T hv the gospel.* 1 
previously asserted in the comment 
M haying made know n unto us t 1 ,.* 
cording to his good pleasure, which he 

•H* : that in the dispensation of I •. he 

mighl gather together in one all i 
name of Christ here, we are perhaps i ot to understand him- 

m ally, but the christian schem 
founder and head. Many p 

require this mode of interpretation to rthe 

wrtters perspicuous. One example it "In ( 

Jesus. n the christian religion,*] neither circumci 

avail eth any thing, nor uncircumcision,but a nev. cr< 
The - therefore of the nil - 

Paul, was this; that in the christian age or dispensation, 
persons of every country and of all the various conditio;- in 
society, should be united in one profession, and be mule 
partakers of the divine favour through a virtuous life, with- 
out beiiig enslaved to any system of ceremonial religion. 

* Ver. 5, G. + Ch. i. 9, 10. J GaQatians, ri. 15. 



10 

! the importance of this discovery, ft is ne- 
cesftan to remember that the whole world was previously 

lc into two classes. Idolaters and Jews. The latter 
mnced the former as dogs and reprobates, and believed 
their salvation was impossible unless they were converted 
to Mosey, and submitted to the rites and ceremonies enjoined 
by the law. This persuasion prevailed for a longtime among 
tiie Hebrew christians, and occasioned much trouble and dis- 
sension among the iisst believers of the gospel. The fif- 
teenth chapter of the Acts is a satisfactory exposition of the 
state of their minds on this subject. It seems to have re- 
quired the interposition of heaven to set Peter himself right 
upon this matter, and to overcome his Jewish prejudices. 
"When Cornelius the pious Roman captain sent for him, his 
language was " Ye know how that it is an unlawful thing 
for a man that is a Jew to keep company or to come unto one 
of another nation; but God hath showed me that I should 
not call any man common or unclean." And when he was 
further convinced of the piety and acceptance of this devout 
gentile, he exclaimed, "Of a truth I perceive that God is no 
respecter of persons: but in every nation he that fearetb him, 
and worketh righteousnesses accepted with him."* Nearly 
all the epistles show that a perpetual contest upon the neces- 
sity and obligation of observing certain days, seasons, and 
ceremonies, agitated the early churches ; and frequently gave 
occasion for the rough remonstrance, " Who art thou that 
judgest another man's servant? To his own master he stand- 
eth or falleth: yea, lie shall be holden up; for God is able 
to make him stand." f 

Paul considered himself as « the apostle of the Gentiles,*' 
being specially appointed to the work of converting them to 
the christian faith, and proclaiming their perfect freedom from 
all obligation to the Mosaic law. The doctrine which he 
most firmly and < ourageously preached in all places was. 
that Jesus Christ v. as the centre of union between Jews and 

* Acts, x, 28, 34, 35. + R om . xiv. 4. 



11 

Gentiles, that he was the appointed head of a new dispensa- 
tion of religion, in which men of all nations sho iiu be uni- 
ted as worshippers of the one common Father of all, on a 
footing of perfect equality as brethren. Nothing hut faith in 
Jesus as the Son of God, a divinely commissioned messenger 
to men, was necessarv to put. them into the possession of all 
the privileges and enjoyments of Christianity : therefore, who- 
ever added any other conditions of disciplesliip. were impo- 
sing a yoke upon their necks, which even their fathers had 
not been able to bear. Lastly, Paul taught, that this cordial 
reception of the gospel, acco npanied with works suitable to 
the faith professed, would insure the final felicity of the Gen- 
tile as well as the Jew. whatever disregard of outward ritual 
observances he might 'je charged with. Such, according to 
Paul, is the mystery of Christ. But 

II. Why does he call this a mystery ? li is surely in- 
telligible enough. There is nothing dark, barbarous, con- 
cealed, or incomprehensible in this. Certainty not Bot 
then the accepted Bense of the word mystery in scripture, is 
very different Iron what is implied in it in the vocabulary of 
the apostate church. Mystery in the scriptures sign 
something hidden* not incomprehensible. It i> something 
either not yet known, or that formerly was not Ltioicn. nut 
never that which cannot be known. Mystery in modern 
theology signifies what is unintelligible and incomprehensi- 
ble, and which is vet an article of faith. It i* the convenient 
cloke for ignorance, and a mask for spiritual usurpation. It 
is only among theologians that the word has ever acquired 
such a sense. Many mechanical arts are technically styled 
mysteries, not because they are incomprehensible, for then 
it would be useless that the master should engage to teach his 
apprentice the mystery of his trade ; but in such cases the 
word is used in the verv same sense as it is in scripture, to 
denote something that has been secret, but shall be made 
known or explained. Mystery and revelation are indeed 



12 

opposed to each other, and correctly speaking, that which is 
lied is do Longer a mystery. 

But our scholastic divines have presented us with the 
mystery of the holy Trinity — the mystery of the Incarnation — 
the mystery of the Atonement — and that most sublime of all 
mysteries, Tranaubstantiation, or the conversion of common 
bread and wine into the very body and blood of Christ, 
by tiie prayers of the priest. We ask their authority for all 
this. We look, through the New-Testament and can see no- 
thing of it there. It can be traced no higher than to the in- 

.ence of busy, officious, intermeddling men, wise in 
their own conceit, and defacing, as the apostle truly said, by 
a vain and false philosophy, the pure and simple system of 
primitive Christianity. 

The reason alleged by Paul himself, for calling the 
doctrine of the universal spread and efficacy of Christianity, 
a mystery, is simple and satisfactory, •• in other ages it w as 
not made known unto the sons of men.*' Ver. 5. Reason, 
indeed, revolted from the appalling idea that the Father of 
mercies would for ever leave the great mass of his rational 
offspring on earth, the slaves of idolatry and the delusions 
connected with it; but how and when the veil that was spread 
over ali nations would be taken away, and the partition wall 
be broken down, no man knew. " Many prophets and 
kings,** said Jesus to his disciples, " have desired to see those 
things which ye see, and have not seen them 5 and to hear 
those things which ye hear, and have not heard them.'"* 

The apostle seems also, occasionally at least, to have 
had allusion, when writing to the Gentile churches, to the 
Eleusinian and other mysteries, held in such esteem among 
the Greeks. The heathens had a two-fold form of their reli- 
gion. One was the plain popular notion of the various gods 
they worshipped, and the public sacrifices and prayers by 

* Luke, x. 24. 



13 

which they were to be invoked or propitiated. But they had 
a higher and secret form of instruction communicated only 
to a few, arid those chiefly philosophers and eminent men. 
who were solemnly sworn to profound silence on the sub- 
- communicated to them at their initiation. The initi- 
ated gloried exceedingly in being instructed in the mj 
ries. and treated those who were ignorant of them as vulgar 
and profane. Now Paul, ji:- lerfngthe instruct] 

of the gospel as infinil ior to all the knowledgi 

the heathen philosopher* - of their religion $ 

imes the phrase, and applies it to the more sublime 
topics of his own ministry. •• We speak wisdom am 
them that are | jdom of this world, nor 

of the princes of this world, that conn* to nought, bui we 
speak the wisdom of God in a e hidden 

wisdom which lained before the world onto our { 

rj •:*'* i, e. which G ! determined t«> communicate to the 
world by our ministry. Bo also he - the chun 

whom this letter was written, to \>:>\\ for him, that he might 

iuth boldly to make known the nr 
the gospel."t 

then you observe his t oncealed doctrine, 

or one restricted to a chosen few who were the depositaries 
of the grand secret; but the whole was proclaimed to the 

worTd, loudly, intelligibly, universally. The mysteries of 
the heathen would not bear the light of day \ to expose them 

to examination would have been their destruction. The 
doctrine of Christ was to be proclaimed on the house top> : it 
forbids concealment, its publicity is its true glory, it is 
adapted and intended for all mankind. Whoever under- 
stands it aright will say with Paul. i; I am not ashamed of 
the gospel of Christ, for it is the power of God to salvation, 
to every one that believeth, to the Jew first, and also to the 
Gentile."! 

* 1 Cor. ii. 6, 7. f £ph. vi. 19. $ Rom. i, 16. 



14 

Our inferences from this subject are 

I. That mysterious doctrines and ceremonies are no parts 
of . genuine Christianity. I use the word mysterious here in 
\(* common popular sense, as signifying what is obscure, un- 
intelligible, or inexplicable. We are described by our op- 
ponents as wishing to expunge all mysteries from the code 
of Christianity.* So far from it, we do not believe that there 

* A Complete Refutation of the Leading Principles of the Unitarian 
System, by the Rev. Anthony Kohlmann, Superior of the Cat.rolic 
Scminray at Washington City. Whatever is my opinion of the theo- 
logy or logic of this gentleman's performance, ot which only two 
iiura era are yet published, I wish to t&iie this opportunity of saying 
that the ; e is an apparent good temper and candour, in general, in his 
■work which some Protestant teachers would do well to imitate. His 
observations are usually in a courr.eous and respectful style, mostly free 
from acrimony and vulga illiberality. I rejoice that Catholic- ae 
beginning to eason and discuss the differences between us ; it cannot 
but lead to ^ood. 

On the subject of mystery, however, Mr. K. seems not to under- 
stand us, and 1 am afraid he is hardly willing to understand us. He 
■will insist upon it, page 16, note, that Unitarians have one common 
principle with the infidel writers, viz. That what is above reason, is 
against rea on. And what is scarcely consistent with the can jui I 4 ave 
allowed him in general, he says, that, let Mr. Sparks, as he has done, 
in his Sixth Letter to Dr Wyatt, disclaim the adoption of this maisim 
as Ion a as he please, he will neither admit that he no his othe. Unita- 
rian friends have any other basis for their system. I need not answer 
fo' Mr Sparks. But I would ask, what can we poor Unitarians do, 
if our own voluntary and explicit statement of what we do or do not 
believe, is not to be credited ? Are we to go before a magistrate and 
make oath to our creed? Surely Mr. K. wi:l retract this. ! can only 
speak for myself; and I solemnly declare that so far from holdin ; the 
above maxim, 1 believe it to be most foolish and false : and as fa; as I 
know, all Unitarians do the same Mr K further says that when the 
Unitarians examine the mysteries of religion, " instead of inquiring 
idto the motives of extrinsic credibility, as reason directs when we set 
about to ascertain divine revelation ; or instead of inquiring, whether 
God has actually revealed them or not, thev on the contrary follow a 
method quite the reverse : their first and only cave being, not to exa- 
mine whether God has actually revealed them, and whether of course?, 



15 

are any such to expunge from the religion of the New-Tes- 
tament. There are certain truths and facts recorded there, 
that we cannot explain or account for on common principles, 
as, for instance, the resurrection of the dead : but when \w* 
admit the interposition of divine power to effect this or an v 
other miracle, all mystery ceases. " Is any tiling too hard 

tl'e\ arc to be believed without farther ado; but to examine into the 
jut insic nature oi the mysteries, in oide to discovei whethe they 
be (oi)'. ant with the natural ideaa oi reason 6cc. flic." Mi. K. 
not I ave written this had be not I l mieinfoi incd, or 

Laboured undei a lamentable misundei Unitarian write J 

will oppof e to tl.i- the language of the most em in ent Kn_li-h Unitai iau 
uf the \i eaent d i] \\> I may l)e allowed to feel 

somewhat proud. '• I Dtta tai . they 

hake nothing upon Unfit It in tl principle Cant etf kk 

rf ('!'■■ i. in be befit ved, ami thai ai w is to be done. L 

folli Wl that too much a; entktD i .inn. to.) much pain- can- 

not be taken, to bea< in From the traditions 

of men." Peltham'i letters to i oj l-ondm 

1 v. ill oppose to Mi i hi, a more decided n over- 

hi I refutation than this It is the Fact, that Units ien ch iatians u mly 
■ in the [lesui e tion of Chiist, and in t'.e final earn ection oi" 
ill ie dead Now they do eo, not bo on eonld djacoeei thii 

plain in wha mannei a human being after death and 
decomposition can be b < ugbt back to li e and conaciouanea*. It 
not appeal indeed to them unreaaonabl Libia that God should 

rai: e the dead But it it had not • ecu made known in t ic 

would have known and believed not ing about it. ThercJii reetioa 
oi" toe dead is a doctrine beyond the reach oi sajea ; hut the I mta tan 
belie vea it, because it appears to bim confinne aa a rovelnion man 
heaven. Mr, K does not know us Let him prodnce aa aetieCactory 
uce of the doctrine of the trinity — the incarnation — transubaiun- 
feiation and thereat, as we have loi the reaurrection of the dead, and i 
shall e eaget to be the first to renounce L'nitaiianism, and 1 shall not 
be alone. 

I am unwilling to extend this note much further, but after what 1 
ha\e said above, and comparing with it what Mr. K. saya in page 13, 
I am not without hope thai we -hall bring him over to our side. He 
ha stated what he conceive- to be Unitarian principle- in the form of 
aerllogism. We are not fond of syllogisms; we have seen so much 
fake logic and nonsense i mposed on the world in this manner. How> 



16 

for the Lord ?" There is indeed one text which, as it stands 
in our received copies of the scriptures, has an appearance 
of favouring the popular notion of a mystical religion. But 
a critical examination of it dispels the illusion. 1 Tim.iii. 16. 
« Without controversy great is the mystery of godliness, 
God was manifest in the flesh, justified in the spirit, &c." 

ever, we are an easy sort of people, and are willing that others should 
arrange their thoughts just as they please, provided they do it fairly 
and honestly. Mr K assumes the Unitarian major to be — "The 
sci iptu; es must have every where a consistent and intelligible mean- 
ing." He adds, " If this majo' proposition be correct, Unitarianism 
triumphs : if false and groundless, Unitarianism must needs be crushed 
under its ruins." I thought when I read this that he was prepa ed to 
prove the falsehood of the proposition. But to my utter surprise he 
goes on to say, « if by the position— nothing more is meant, than, that 
God in the scriptures is to speak to men after such a manner, and in 
such language, a> to make them sufficiently understand what he ha. re- 
vealed, and what they are to believe, without however giving them a 
right to dive into the intrinsic nature of the revelation ; after the same 
manner as a servant has a right to know clearly the commands of his 
master as otherwise he could not comply with them) without having 
a right to know the reasons which his master may have to impose 
them on him ; if I say no more is meant ;han this, the Unitarian will 
speak plain good sense, and the whole world will agree with him : for 
it is obvious, that unless men have some idea of what God reveals, 
they cannot be bound to believe it " Here, then, the controversy may 
end. For I declare with the utmost sincerity, that I desi e to under- 
stand nothing more by " a consistent and intelligible meaning of reve- 
lation." I cannot answer for others ; but as far as I know, I believe 
Unitarians mean nothing more when they contend for consistency and 
intelligibility. The major proposition therefore being correct, and all 
the world agreeing with us, in the reasonableness of our opinion, Mr. 
K. assures us that <• Unitarianism triumphs '." And he who set out 
armed with philosophy and logic to refute our very fundamental prin- 
ciples, has yielded the palm of victory to us, and acknowledged that 
we are ii refutable ! ! The syllogism, however, ought to stand thus : 

Major. The scriptures must have a consistent and intelligible 
meaning. 

Minor. But they no where intelligibly teach the doctrine of the 
Trinity, &c. &c. 

Conclusion. Therefore these doctrines are not to be believed. 



17 

Greshach. a"' 1 other eminent sc 1 . have satisfactorily 

^ho n h the true reading of this passage is "he \ ' o - as 
d anifeste • i-.iheflesh." Greek os instead of ©tor. God This 
reading ^upporte:l by the Alexandrine, and Ephrem MSS. 
both of which are of the most ancient class of manuscripts, 
and of the highest authority. The alteration of only two 
Greek letters has changed the reading to God, and given 
the text all its importance in the Trinitarian controversy. 
And this alteration was not made \cn early, for " all the 
old versions" says Dr. Clarke. •• have who or which. And 
all the ancient fathers, though the copies of many of them 
have it now in the te\t itself (&tos) God : yet from the tenor 
of their comments on it. and from their never citing it i 
Arian controversy, it appears ttiej always read it (©*) who 
or Co) which." 

The apostle in this p emstobe allud- 

ing to the boasted mj Bteries of the learned Greeks, and extol- 
ling the gospel <> I ("In ist For its infinite superiority* and glory- 
ing in its success. It may he read and paraphrased thus: •• greal 
is the mystery of godliness, 91 we christiana have reasoi 
glory in our profession, lor -he who was manifested in the 
flesh," our master, who was a real human being and not a 
mere phantom as the docetfe taught, ootwithstanding all the 
weakness and infirmity of mortality, was "justified by the 
spirit:" his divine mission was attested by miraculous proofs; 
he was " seen by hia messengers" tin- apostles, whom he chose 
and to whom he personally communicated the doctrine which 
they '• preached to the Gentiles;" this heavenly instruction 
has been "believed in the world," ami has obtained and is 
still obtaining "a glorious reception." How plain and in- 
telligible is this ! Every thing taught by the apostles, and 
every thing transacted by them in the churches, hail a plain- 
ness and significant^, that commended itself to the under- 
standings and consciences of men. But there soon arose a 
race of teachers who were fond of representing the doctrines 
and ordinances of Christianity as profound mi/steries. Es- 
pecially, the Lord's Supper was invested with peculiar sane- 

3 



18 

fcity. They divided the disciples into classes according to 
their imagined rank or standing in the church; they were 

chumens, initiated, penitents, &c. Chrysostom in one 
of his homilies says " We shut the doors when we celebrate 
our mysteries, and exclude the uninitiated." In some of the 
churches, during ihe second and third centuries, before the 

►ration of the Eucharist, the deacons used to cry out in 
the congregation < ; Go out all you catechumens. Walk out 
all that are not initiated." This was a very exact imitation 
of the heathen practice in celebrating their mysteries.* As 
these measures conferred a venerable and mysterious solem- 
nity- on the doctrine, the churches, and the clergy, the evil 
increased from age to age, till the enormous fabric of super- 
stition was completed, and cemented by alliance with the 
civil power, and protected by the terrors of persecution. 

It is time that these things were laid aside ; and that 
pure religion with unveiled face, and holding the torch of 
truth in her hand should (like wisdom personified in the 
Book of Proverbs) cry aloud in the highest places of the city, 
" Come eat of my bread, and drink of the wine that I have 
mingled. Forsake the foolish and live, and go in the way of 
understanding." The advocates for mystery, with apparent 
exultation in their own penetration, and astonishment at our 
stupidity, refer us to the unexplained phenomena of human 
life, and muscular motion ; to the growth and combinations 
of vegetable and animal matter. They ask us to explain 
how it is that an act of volition enables us to lift our arm, or 
raise our eyes : how it is that fluids are converted into vege- 
table and animal forms ; and what disposes the particles of 
matter to arrange themselves so differently, as to produce 
such an infinite variety of shapes, colours, odours, and other 
attributes ? And if we confess our ignorance, we are then 
asked, why we refuse our assent to their mysterious doctrine 
about the divine nature ? I answer, we do so for the very 

* P ocul O ! P-.ocul este p'ofani 

Conclamat vates, totoque ahsistite luco. 



19 

same reason which would justify us in rejecting any iame, 
confused, and unsupported hypothesis which they . ight 
chuse to suggest to unravel the hidden operations of na 
They know nothing aoout the matter any more than our- 
selves, except the facts that animals exist, have I 
motion and nervous irritability, and that cert; uni- 

formly folio % from certain i 
fore, are hidden from our vi 

to our knowledge nor our faith. Nor has our 
anv tendency, as they affirm, to A 
truth of the existence and 
Cause, sta 
sonings about his essence; of which we know I 

In the prophetic book oi 
atical representation of the apo 
church, which was predicted to arise after ii.<' . 
" The woman was arra\od in purple and >cailt-t colour, and 
flecked with gold and precious stones and pearls, havi 
golden cup full of abominations in ! i hei 

FOREHEAD WAS A NAME WRITTEN MYSTERY ! RcV. 

*vii. 4, 5. 

If any church can be found whose chief char; 
are outward splendour, joined with my terioua services, and 
inexplicable doctrines, surely n< make a pr< 

of their understanding can mistake her fi ra truly apostolical 

church. The apostle gloried in not having a veil 
face like Moses: but by manifestation of the truth he com- 
mended himself to every man's conscience, as in the i 
of God.* 

* One word here to our soid friends of the Protectant Episcopal 
and P-esbyterian churches, for manv of whom I enter ain a ve y high 
esteem Is it not su prising ifte they have been fo a^es declaiming 
against the monst ous coi i options of the Roman atholic chui ch, and 
believe it to constitute the z ea a o-tacv f om e true faith w ich 
Paul so clearly predicted ; that they do net uce that their own system 



2. The simplicity and reasonableness of Christianity, as 
opposed to every thing mystical and unintelligible, render 
it the more adapted for universal dissemination and influence. 
The most tender capacity can understand its doctrines and 
precepts — and the poorest can, without difficulty, practice all 
its requirements;. 

Priestcraft and mystery enslave and blind the human 
understanding, and by their odious tyranny, give a momen- 
tary triumph to irreligion and infidelity. But the unadorned 
beauty of the christian profession, when free from these un- 
natural and meretricious associates, will silence objectors, 
fascinate every unsophisticated mind, and prove itself friend- 
ly to every thing great and noble among men — the patroness 
of liberty, science, and virtue. 

We cannot but feel ourselves elevated, in being the 
advocates of such a cause, and exult in anticipating the day 
when all the nations shall be fellow 7 worshippers of the same 
God, through the same Mediator, and be " partakers of his 
promise in Christ, through the gospel." Truth has given 
many sacred pledges of her future and universal triumphs. 

of faith is substantially the same? Every doctrine they now contend 
for so violently, they received from the Catholic church. They have 
rejected some of its mysteries, but they hold the greater part. Let them 
read Mr. Kohlman's Book, it will do them good. He will pe. haps 
tell them in some future numbei , as Dr. Fletcher has done before him, 
«« As a Catholic, I certainly do reprobate and abhor the whole system 
of Unitariunism But were I a Protestant, I seriously think I should 
be a Unitarian ; because were I to admit the Protestant principle, that 
my reason is the sole arbiter of my faith, [ think as a consistent Pro- 
testant I ought also to admit its consequences — I would not respect 
one mystery and insult another, disbelieve one ^enet because it is in- 
comprehensible, and porfess another which is just as unintelligible." 
Fletcher'' Spirit of Keligious Controversy. 

It is a truth, in whatever light it may now appear to themselves, that 
to be consistent, they must either go back to the Catholics or come 
over to us. 



21 

In her occasional manifestations to men, she has never been 
armed vvitli the sword, or enveloped in the helmet and cui- 
rass. She asks not the aid of armies, nor glories in the war- 
rior's garments rolled in blood. She has built no dun-cons 
though she has inhabited many. She reared not the horrid 
towers of the inquisition; nor sought support from the hellish 
malignity and craft, which with the name and semblance of 
religion, absorbed the wealth and drank the vital blood of its 
victim*. She seeks not for the edicts of kiniis or att> of Par- 
liament to give her weight and victory. Her conquests are 
like those of day over darkness ; — ilent. mild, progressive, 
and invincible: — seen, felt, and rejoiced in. before the means 
by which they are accomplished are understood. 

There was once a long, dark, cold night of ignorance, 
and the reign of priestcraft over the fairest portions of the 

earth, in which the voice <>' truth was Scarcely heard: or if 

heard, WS8 -ileiued In reaistless power: lack-, gibbets, and 
the lire, kept all things quiet.* '1 hat deep shade has | 



* Sir. Kohlmann affirm* 'hat '* it i- by mystei ia God his 
fixed the faith ol his pec pie, and sheltered it from the attempts of a 
testier ami ever vai yin, philosophy." •• Mysteries were 

to impose -ili'iKf on that proud and restless rtaaOA, ami to make it 
submit to t ie yoke ol faith.*' 

11 this weft the object <>t Chrisjamty, it saost l>e confessed thai it 
has been singularly unfortunate and unsuccessfuL l >> instead off -i- 
lencin.; the curiosity o! the human mind, or producing uUrrefSa] ac- 
quiescence in every set ot theological speculations, it iia- eve v where 
provoked discussion, and produced dinerence ol opinion In no former 
period of the world were men- minds so a^itateu with controve.>v, or 
reason at work with such restless imporuinitv to discover the grounds 
of \irtue ami truth. Unitarians <lo not lament over this as an evil. 
They agree with one who sav^ ' The wildest stoim that ever lashed the, 
ocean into rage, and spiead with wrecks and desolation all the *hoe, 
is preferable to that lifeless calm which would convert the wo. la of 
watets into a stagnant and put. id lake, the awful -ource of universal 
pestilence and death.' l'.xpeiience has \ ro\ed, that in tho*e a-es and 
nations where free inquiry has been suppressed, and uniformity of re- 



<22 

;iway ; the day has broken that will never close 5 the sun has 
risen that will never set. Truth is marching onward from 
conquest to conquest Even the advocates for absolute au- 
thority, and the deniers of the right of private judgment, are 
obliged to reason and persuade. They have no other weapon 
left; and this from want of use and other disadvantages, 
will not long maintain a system of mysticism which is rapidly 
crumbling into ruin : the age of knowledge, truth, and huma- 
nity, will supercede that of legendary lore and priestly do- 
mination over the consciences and understandings of men. 

ligious faith imposed by the strong hand of despotism, there every 
thing that exalts and ennobles the human mind and character has 
dwindled away. Gi eat improvements in science, and the circulation 
of general knowledge, cannot exist in such an order of things Igno- 
rance and abject servility among the poor, and imposture and oppres- 
sion among the higher ranks, arenecessary concomitants of such a state. 
We rejoice in being blessed with the greatest measure of civil and 1 eli- 
gious liberty, that a nation ever enjoyed ; and we mean to shew our 
esteem of it, and gratitude for it, by refusing to submit our consciences 
and judgments to the decision of anv man, or set of men, whatever 
pretensions to infalliblity they may make, until they can siiew us their 
authority fiom the skies, to claim our obedience. Jesus and his apos- 
tles have not required of us the belief of any thins, we cannot under- 
stand; and whatever oracles others may chuse to listen to; " To us 
there is one God, the Father, of whom are all things, (by his all creating 
power, and we for him; and one Lord Jesus Christ, by whom are all 
things, (communicated from God to us- and we by him," in eru che 
blessings of salvation. 1 Cor viii. 6 To God, even the Fattiei, be 
glory, through him, ascribed for ever and ever. Amen. 



PROPOSAL 

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ly ei; 



THE 

UNITARIAN MISCELLANY 

AND 

CHRISTIAN MONITOR. 

IT is the object of this jvork to set forth the doctrines, 
and inculcate the truths of the Christian Religion, as they 
are usually understood by Unitarians. 

It is published monthly, in Baltimore, by the Baltimore 
Unitarian Book Society. Annual subscription, one dollar and 
fifty cents. 

Ten numbers of the above work are already published, 
and may be had of \V Cooper or P. Thompson, by whom 
subscriptions are received. 

October, 1821. 






PRINCIPLES OP CONGREGATIONALISM 



THE 






SECOND 



CENTURY LECTURE 



oi- 



THE FIRST CHURCH 



BY CHARLES WENTWORTH UPHAM, 

JUNIOR PASTOR. 



SALEM : 

Foote & Brown Gazette Office Court Street. 

1829. 



LECTURE. 



TEXT— -PSALM LXXVIII 1 7. 

14 Give car, O my people, to my law : incline your ears to the words of my 
mouth. 

" I will open my mouth in n parable • / will Htter dark sayings of old, 

" Which we hare heard and hnoicn, and our fathers have told us. 

u We will not hide them from their children, shewing to the generations to 
come the praises of the Lord, and his strength, and the wonderful works that h« 
hath done : 

" For he established a testimony in Jacob, and appointed a law in Israel, 
which he commanded our fathers, that they should make them known to their 
children : 

u That the generation to come might know th'm, rrcn the children which should 
be born, who should arise and declare them to their children. 

" That they might set thiir hope in Gud, and not forget the works of God, but 
keep his cummandnunts." 

We have assembled here to perform a service 
enjoined upon us by the example of our ancestors. 
Its nature and object will be best explained by 
referring to the notices of its previous celebration, 
which have fortunately been transmitted to our day. 
One is found in the records of the Church ; the 
other, which will now be read, was accidentally 
discovered in an old public paper.* 

" Salem, August 6,f 1729. On Wednesday 
was celebrated the First Century Lecture, in 
the meeting house of the First Church here, in com- 
memoration of the good hand of the Lord, in found- 
ing that Church on August 6th, 1629; just one 
hundred years ago ; enlarging and making her the 

* Collections of the Massachusotte Historical Society. Vol. IV. p. ^19. 
Records of First Church. 
t See Appendix A 



mother of several others, and preserving and bless- 
ing her to this day. She was the first Congrega- 
tional Church that was completely formed and or- 
ganized in the whole American continent, which 
was on the day abovementioned, when the Rev. Mr. 
(Francis) Higginson was ordained the teacher, and 
the Rev. Mr. Skelton their pastor. Governor 
Bradford, and others, deputed from the church at 
Plymouth, coming into the assembly in the time of 
the solemnity (having been hindered by contrary 
winds) gave them the right hand of fellowship ; 
wishing all prosperity and a blessed success to such 
good beginnings. 

" The Century Lecture began with singing Psalm 
CXXII. 1 to 8. The Rev. Mr. Fisk then preached 
a very agreeable sermon from Psalm LXXVIII. 1 
to 7. We then sang Psalm XLIV. 1, 2, 6, 7 
verses. The Rev. Mr. Prescott then prayed. We 
then sang Psalm C. first metre, and the Rev. Mr. 
Fisk pronounced the blessing. 

u There were thirteen ministers present, and a 
considerable confluence of people both from this 
place and the towns about. " 

The Records of the Church contain a similar 
account. It denominates the occasion "The 
First Century Jubilee," and concludes by 
expressing the petition that " the Lord would ac- 
cept the offering of thanks which had then been 
made." 

One hundred years more have passed away since 
the interesting service, which has thus been de- 



scribed to you in the language of those who were 
present to witness and partake in it, was performed 
on this spot The Centennial " Jubilee" has again 
come round 5 and we are now gathered to commem- 
orate the completion of the Second Century since 
the formation of the First American Congregational 
Church. During the hour, which we are spending 
together, it will have been drawn to its close. 

As we enter upon the discharge of the interesting 
and affecting duty which has fallen to our lot, the 
images of those virtuous and pious men, who here laid 
the foundation of an order of churches, which are 
believed to be more favorable to the promotion of 
the blessings of Christianity among men than any 
other, rise up before our minds, and we feel that it 
is good to contemplate them, as they were engaged 
in the great and solemn transaction which establish- 
ed the institutions of the gospel, in their original 
purity and simplicity, in the new world. We com- 
mend those of their descendants and successors, 
who happened at the time to be on the Stage of life, 
for the faithful zeal and the filial gratitude, with 
which, when one century had revolved over the Con- 
gregational Churches of America, they assembled to 
do honor to the venerable mother and the beautiful 
pattern of them all. And we would now endeavor 
to repeat, as nearly as possible, the service which 
they then performed. 

It is with this intent, that the same passages from 
the Psalms, which our ancestors devoutly sung on 
the previous occurrence of this occasion, have now 



been chosen, in the very form in which they existed 
in the quaint and unpoetical, but, in many instances, 
affecting expression of their ancient version—a ver- 
sion, which, at the same time that it affords, in its 
uncouth metre and rude versification, pleasing evi- 
dence of the progress of devotional poetry in later 
times, must possess a charm in the estimation of 
every one who loves to recal to mind the condition 
and manners of the Fathers of New-England. It 
was used in all the churches, in most of them for 
more than a hundred years, and was universally 
known by the name of the " Bay Psalm Book." 
I have also adopted, for the text of this Second Cen- 
tury Lecture, the same passage which my predeces- 
sor selected as the text of that which he delivered 
at the close of the First Century. Let them be 
transmitted on, while the church and the world en- 
dure, to those of our successors, who shall be called, 
one after another, with the interlapse of a hundred 
years, to the discharge of the duties of this occasion. 
If the discourse of Mr. Fisk, which is represented 
to have been " very agreeable" to those who listened 
to it, had been preserved, with what interest should 
we now regard it ! If it sketched the history of this 
Church, which, up to the date of its delivery, had 
been the history of Salem, and, to a great extent, of 
all the surrounding towns ; or if it described the 
origin, or explained the principles of the Congrega- 
tional Churches, or if it traced their progress during 
the first century of their existence, what an invalu- 
able treasure it would have been to us ! But we 



fear that it is irrecoverably lost. Our fathers, al- 
though they went far beyond the example of the 
founders of every other community, in exercising a 
wise and provident care for the instruction, improve- 
ment and gratification of their descendants, permit- 
ted, notwithstanding, many an event of moment to 
pass unrecorded, and many an important record to 
perish. Among the interesting productions of the 
earlier ages of America, which have failed to reach 
us, there arc few, perhaps, which we have more 
reason to regret, than the First Century Lecture 
delivered here. 

As it is, the whole field is laid open before me, 
and is as yet unoccupied, from the point at which we 
now stand, back to the day when the Pilgrims first 
assembled here to perform their worship as an or- 
ganized Christian Congregation. In seeking for to- 
pics appropriate to this occasion, I look down the 
course of time along the extended distance of two 
hundred years. 

The first suggestion which presents itself, is the 
propriety of commemorating the virtues, and de- 
lineating the characters of the race of men who laid 
the foundations of Christianity and civilization on 
these shores. But I am reminded, that it will be 
a hopeless attempt for me to undertake to give new 
interest to topics which have for years been the 
chosen theme of the noblest genius, and the loftiest 
eloquence of the land. And especially would it be 
in vain, for any one, in this community, and in this 
generation, to enter upon the discussion of subjects, 



8 

which have, so recently, on a similar occasion, been 
at once illustrated and exhausted by one of our own 
most honored, and most beloved fellow citizens.* 

The design which next offers itself to considera- 
tion, is that of giving to this Lecture the form of an 
historical memoir of the First Church. And many, 
who have not attended closely to the study of our 
early history, may, perhaps, suppose that such a 
memoir could be embraced within its limits. But 
the supposition would be incorrect. It is true, in- 
deed, as has been remarked by another, that the 
age of commemoration has actually begun among 
us. An interest in the men, and in the events of 
preceding periods, is awakened widely and earnest- 
ly throughout the country. There are still however 
but few, who have fully estimated the amount of 
those treasures, which are laid up for the historian 
in the two centuries already past. It would indeed 
be utterly impossible to do any thing like justice to 
the history of this single Church in an address from 
the pulpit. In order to exhibit the accuracy and 
propriety of this assertion, and to show how worthy 
the memoirs of this venerable religious community 
are of being written and preserved in another, more 
elaborate, and more extended form, the track, over 
which the biography of several of its distinguish- 
ed pastors alone would lead, will now be briefly 
sketched. 



* See Centennial Discourse in commemoration of the first settlement of 
Salem, by Hon. Joseph Story, Associate Justice of the Supreme Court of 
the United States. 



9 

In tracing the course of Francis Higginson, 
from the place of his education in Emanuel College 
to his early grave in Salem, we are presented 
throughout with the most interesting scenes. We 
pass through the wide field of Nonconformity and 
of the Reformation in England — a field crowded 
with the most affecting, romantic, and momentous 
incidents ; and we come into close contact with all 
the adventures, perils, and distresses, of the first 
settlers of New-England. He was one of the most 
amiable and accomplished ministers of his age. We 
cannot contemplate his character without feeling 
the deepest reverence for his virtues, 1 1 1 * - highest 
admiration of his talents, and the tenderest interest 
in his sufferings and death. With a genius and 
eloquence, which, had he stooped to conformity, 
would have secured to him all the glory and 
power that an earthly ambition could covet, he sub- 
mitted, for conscience sake, to the severest sacri- 
fices and the most embarrassing distresses, while in 
his awn country. For conscience sake, he braved 
what were then indeed the dreadful perils of the 
ocean, and fled to this wild and wintry shore ; and 
here he perished an early martyr to the holy cause 
of christian liberty. 

Virtue and religion demand that the character 
and actions, the services and sufferings of this good 
man should be presented in all their interest, and 
with all their attraction, to the generations of New- 
England. The man, who laid the foundations of 
our religious institutions in the principles of the most 

6% 



10 

perfect freedom, and of apostolic simplicity, ought 
never to be forgotten. We should take delight in 
rescuing his example from obscurity, and his name 
from oblivion. 

The christian graces shed such a beauty upon his 
daily life, that the hearts of all who witnessed it 
were charmed into love and admiration. It is re- 
lated, that, when he left Leicester, the place of his 
residence in England, to embark for the forests of 
America, although at the time he was suffering be- 
neath the frowns of the government, the people of 
every rank and party rushed forth from their dwell- 
ings to bid him farewell. They crowded the streets 
through which he passed. Every eye was filled 
with tears, and every voice was imploring blessings 
upon him ! Our imaginations should often present 
him to our hearts, as he called his family and fellow 
passengers around him, leaned over the stern of the 
vessel, in which he was borne in exile from his na- 
tive home, while the cliffs of his country, still dear 
to his soul, although it was driving him out to perish 
in the wilderness, were disappearing from sight, 
and uttered that memorable benediction, than which 
there is nothing more affecting, more magnanimous, 
or more sublime in the records of history : " We 
will not say, as the Separatists were wont to say at 
their leaving of England— farewell Babylon ! fare- 
well Rome ! — but we will say Farewell Dear 
England ! farewell the church of God in England, 
and all the christian friends there!" Our bosoms 
must always experience a softened and melancholy 






11 

emotion, when we reflect upon his rapid decline and 
premature death. His delicate constitution could 
not bear the rigors of the new climate, and the pri- 
vations incident to the early settlement. The suffer- 
ings of one short year, the severities of a single win- 
ter, carried him off. As the termination of his life 
approached, he seemed to have been admitted to 
clearer views of the results of the great enterprise 
which he had been called to conduct. His soul 
soared into those higher regions, from which the 
scenes of futurity can be discerned. In his dying 
hours he repeatedly uttered the prediction, which 
has already been so wonderfully fulfilled. " He 
was persuaded," he said, " that although the Lord 
was calling him away, he would raise up others, to 
carry on the work that was begun, and that there 
would yet be many churches of the Lord Jesus 
Christ in this wilderness." While he sleeps by the 
side of their fathers, may our children of every 
generation venerate his character and cherish his 
memory. 

Such was Francis Higginson ! We have cause 
to bless Providence that a character so bright 
and beautiful in all the attributes which can adorn 
the man, the patriot, and the christian, was selected 
to take the lead in that great work commenced at 
the formation of this Church, and which will never 
be finished while error and bigotry remain — "the 
further reformation of religion in the world." 

Samuel Skelton was chosen to the office of 
Pastor of this Church at the same time that Francis 



12 

Iiissinson was elected Teacher. On account of 

DO 

His greater age he was called to the superior station. 
B ut his modest and retiring disposition prompted 
him to give the lead, in the transactions at the set- 
tlement of the Church, to his younger colleague. 
He had been highly respectable as a clergyman be- 
fore he left England. Governor Endicott became 
a professor of religion under his ministry there, and 
ever afterwards looked up to him with gratitude and 
reverence, as to his spiritual father and guide. A 
most tender friendship existed between them, and it 
is probable that it was among the strongest of the 
motives, which induced Mr. Skelton to remove to 
America, that he might again enjoy the society of 
his pious and distinguished parishioner. Mr. Skel- 
ton lived but a few years after his arrival in New- 
England. One of the early writers describes him, 
as " a man of gracious speech, full of faith, and 
furnished by the Lord w 7 ith gifts from above." 
Notwithstanding his love for quiet and retirement, 
and his devotion to the silent and unostentatious 
discharge of the duties of life, he had a noble and 
fearless spirit 5 and although but little is said of him 
in our early annals, that little is enough to render 
his memory dear, and his name honored. This is 
the brief but imperishable record of Samuel Skel- 
ton, the First Pastor of the First Church ; he was 
the friend and counsellor of John Endicott— the 
faithful defender of Roger Williams — the bold as- 
sertor and the watchful guardian of the freedom 
and independence of our Congregational Churches. 






13 

The name of Roger Williams has long been 
recorded high on the list of those which will not be 
forgotten by man 5 and the writer who would nar- 
rate his history will find himself called to the dis- 
cussion of some of the most important questions ever 
agitated by the moralist or statesman. He will 
have to traverse the whole subject of the connection 
between the church and state — to investigate the 
principles of religious liberty in their deepest foun- 
dations, and their broadest dimensions — to delineate 
the basis upon which a truly free commonwealth 
must be established — and to examine thoroughly the 
condition, the character, the claims, and the rights 
of the aboriginal inhabitants of this continent. For 
Roger Williams was the first who had political sa- 
gacity enough, and a sufficient acquaintance with the 
spirit of the Gospel, to detect and expose the erro- 
neous doctrine, previously every where maintained, 
of the necessity of the exercise of the civil power in 
matters of religion. He stands at the head of those 
illustrious men who have fearlessly advocated the 
great principle of entire and individual christian 
liberty. He laid the foundations of a political com- 
munity in which the enjoyment of personal freedom 
to an extent never conceived of before, never sur- 
passed since, was secured. And he was the sincere 
friend, and the benevolent patron of the poor Indians. 
His writings give the best account, that has reached 
us, of their language, and customs, and character. 

The successor of Roger Williams was Hugh 
Peters. His character and life will demand the 



14 

exercise of the most exalted and the most pleasing 
functions of the biographer. All the great events 
of one of the most important epochs of modern times 
will be passed in review. And the genius of history 
will be summoned to the discharge of her sublimest 
office, in overthrowing the usurped dominion of 
error, and establishing truth upon that throne to 
which time will always, sooner or later, lead her 
back. Passion, prejudice, and interest, have all 
combined in heaping calumny and reproach upon 
the character of Hugh Peters. And they have thus 
far succeeded. For nearly two centuries his name 
has been associated only with conceptions of wick- 
edness and sentiments of horror. But their day has 
passed ; and justice will finally be done to the as- 
persed fame of the martyred and abused philanthro- 
pist. I feel sure that there is no hazard in predict- 
ing that he will, ere long, be acknowledged as one 
of the best and greatest characters of the age in 
which he lived. There is none among them, and 
the age of the Puritans was an age of great men, 
who has left a wider or deeper impression upon their 
times than Hugh Peters. His eloquence and zeal 
as a Divine — his ability and courage as a patriot 
Statesman and Soldier — his wisdom and energy as 
a Citizen — and his benevolence and integrity as a 
Man, will at last compel the admiration of the 
world. Let us trace the outline of his extraordinary 
and romantic career. 

He was educated at Trinity College, in Cam- 
bridge. At a very early age he was appointed Pub- 



15 

lie Lecturer in a church of the metropolis, and such 
was the reputation which his energetic eloquence 
acquired, that a congregation of between six and 
seven thousand persons was gathered beneath his 
preaching. The doctrinal sentiments of Mr. Peters 
were in harmony with those of the early Calvinists. 
But, through his whole life, he was the bold, con- 
sistent, and uniform assertor and advocate of liberty 
in religion, as well as in government. The following 
passage, taken from a sermon preached before the 
assembled rulers and divines of England, exhibits 
at once his nervous eloquence, his original, rich, and 
penetrating intellect, and his enlarged and liberal 
principles. " I hear much of differences, opinions, 
sects, heresies, and truly I think they would be 
lesse, if we did not think them so many. One error, 
and but one, our Saviour gives caution about, and 
lately I have thought much upon. He says. Be- 
ware of the leaven of the Pharisees, and if we 
knew which that leaven were, it would help us in 
these fears. This I suggest therefore. Leaven 
hath three properties. 1. It sowres. 2. It tufiens, 
or hardens. 3. It swells the lump. Therefore that 
opinion which sowres mens 5 spirits against their 
brethren, and it may be against authority, that swells 
them, and prides them, that hardens them, and makes 
tough, and not easily intreated, beware of that opin- 
ion, as of the leaven of the Pharisees. Errors in 
us, are like corn, in the sowing of it; if it lie above 
ground, it may be gathered up again, but if it be 
plowed in and harrowed, lie under the clod, there is 



16 

little hope. Whilest errors lie in the understand- 
ing, scripture, reason, argument, time, sweetnesse 
and tendernesse may do much to the cure : the dan- 
ger is, when they lie under the will, when we shall 
say, we will have what we will, or all shall crack ; 
with Sampson, pull down the two great posts, that 
others may perish, though we perish with them. 
Beware of this leaven of the Pharisees. You shall 
ever find pride the fomenter of differences. * * * * 
But those opinions that find a soule in a lowly 
frame, and after received, keep the soule so, and 
carry it to Christ, they need not trouble State nor 
Church." He was, it is probable, one of the most 
powerful pulpit orators that ever lived. So close 
and penetrating were his appeals, so affecting and 
irresistible were his exhortations, that there is reason 
to believe, to use his own words, that " above an 
hundred every week were persuaded from Sin to 
Christ" by his preaching. 

His great popularity and influence exposed him to 
jealousy and envy, and he was one of the first objects 
upon which the power of that domineering and per- 
secuting Primate, Archbishop Laud, was brought 
to bear. He was driven from his church in London, 
and compelled to abandon his country. He fled to 
Holland. But his fame had preceded him, and he 
was immediately called to take charge of a congre- 
gation in Rotterdam. He remained four or five 
years in the United Provinces. While there he at- 
tracted the admiration of the learned men throughout 
the continent, and so great was the regard in which 






17 

he was held, that the celebrated Dr. William Ames, 
the memorable champion of the Reformed Churches 
at that period, removed to Rotterdam for the sole 
purpose of enjoying his acquaintance and co-opera- 
tion in the ministry. "The learned Amesius, v 
says Mr. Peters, in one of his writings, u breathed 
his last breath into my bosom, who left his Profes- 
sorship in Friesland to live with me, because of my 
Church's Independency at Rotterdam. He was 
my colleague, and chosen brother to the church, 
where I was an unworthy Pastor." 

It was while he was thus living in prosperity and 
in honor, that his active and benevolent spirit frit 
an attraction towards the poor and feeble settle- 
ments of New-England. I le perceived a \\ ide Held 
of usefulness opened to him here, and came over 
the ocean lo occupy it. \\ iihin about two years 
from the time of his arrival he was ordained Pastor 
of this Church. His residence in America contin- 
ued seven years. Faithful tradition, corroborating 
the testimony, and supplying the deficiencies of the 
imperfect records of that day, has informed us of his 
energy, bis usefulness, and his eloquence.* He left 
the stamp of bis beneficent and wonderful genius 
upon the agriculture, the fisheries, the manufactures. 



• Enon was the name originally given l>\ the Colonists to the district winch 
has since bet n incorporated as the town ol VVenbara. .Near the (dwra ofUia 
beautiful lake in that place, and not far from flic public road, there is a small 
conical bill, which is often called Peterss Hill, or Peters s Pulpit. It is re- 
lated that, on one occasion. Hugh Peters addressed a largs roncourc 
people from its summit. The following mis Ins te.\t. John iii. £3. ' At 
F.non, near to Salim, because there was much water there."' This will over 
be regarded as a classical ami consecrated spot. 

a 



18 

the commerce, and the navigation of New- England. 
Salem never advanced so rapidly, as during the pe- 
riod of his residence here. He reformed the police, 
introduced the arts, and erected a water-mill, a 
glass-house, and salt works. He encouraged the 
planting of hemp, and established a market-house. 
He formed the plan of the fisheries, and of the coast- 
ing and foreign voyages. Under his influence many 
ships were built, one of them of three hundred tons. 
He checked the tendency of the people to religious 
dissipation by diminishing the number of lectures 
and conferences which they were in the habit of at- 
tending. As a preacher and pastor he was eminently 
successful. In the course of five years eighty male 
and as many female members were added to his 
Church. He took an active part in the service of 
the infant College 5 and through his whole life con- 
tinued to confer his benefactions upon the inhab- 
itants of the Colony. Itwas not until after repeat- 
ed solicitations on the part of the General Court of 
Massachusetts, that his affectionate and admiring 
church and congregation consented to let him ac- 
cept the commission to which he had been several 
times appointed, that of agent or ambassador from 
the Plantations to the government at home. 

It is honorable to his character to find that, after 
his return to his own country, he continued to hold 
in grateful and respectful remembrance the people 
with whom he had resided in America. In a sermon 
preached before both Houses of Parliament, the 
Lord Mayor and Aldermen of London, and the As- 



19 

sembly of Divines, he passes the following eulogi- 
um upon our early ancestors ; would that their de- 
scendants might also merit it ! "I have lived," 
said he, " in a country, where, in seven years, I 
never saw a beggar, nor heard an oath, nor looked 
upon a drunkard."* 

Soon after his arrival in England, he was led to 
visit Ireland. He found the people of that island, 
who, through the whole period of their history al- 
most to this day, have at the same time challenged 
the admiration of the world for their ardent vir- 
tues, and awakened its compassion for their wretch- 
ed condition, in a most deplorable slate of poverty 
and distress. J lis heart was touched by the sight 
of their misery ; and, prompted solely by the dic- 
tates of his generous nature, he seized the first mo- 
ment of leisure, and undertook to go over to Hol- 
land, the country of his former residence, for the 
purpose of collecting the means of relief for the 
poor Irish sufferers. And, in a short time, he re- 
turned with what would be considered, even in our 
day, an enormous sum gathered by the individual 
exertions of a private man, thirty thousand pounds 
sterling. It was wholly collected in the United 
Provinces, and Mr. Peters enjoyed the heavenly 
satisfaction of distributing it to the impoverished and 
the hungry. This noble act proves the energy, the 
influence, and the benevolence of his character. 

*" God'H Doings and Man's Duty, opened in a Sermon preached before both 
Houses of Parliament, the Lord Maior and Aldermen of the City of London, 
and tiie Assembly of Divines/' by Hugh Petere, 1645. 



20 

He served the Republican cause most earnestly 
and most faithfully during the wars of the Parlia- 
ment, and the government of the Protector. While 
he gave his whole soul to that cause, he was ever 
found the advocate of mercy and mildness towards 
the Royalists. Rut, notwithstanding this, so great 
was his ability, and so important had his services 
been to the Puritans, that he became a distinguished 
mark for the reproaches, the invectives, and the 
vengeance of the friends of the Royal government ; 
and, upon the restoration of Charles II, he was 
selected as one of the most conspicuous victims of 
his wrath. He was condemned to execution. 

During his confinement in the Tower, he com- 
posed a small volume for the benefit of his daughter, 
entitled " A Dying Father's Last Legacy. 55 * It 
w r ould not, perhaps, be saying too much to affirm 
that there are few, if any, better works, of the kind, 
in the language than this. It is judicious, practical, 
and interesting. A lofty and pure strain of devotion 
pervades it. The child to whom he addressed it 
appears to have been the object of his most tender 
love. It is replete with the evidences of his genius 
and eloquence, although there are throughout those 
peculiar marks of incorrectness, inadvertency and 
abruptness in the style, which reveal an agitation of 
soul to which an affectionate parent, in circum- 

* The following is the title in full of this admirable work : " A Dying 
Father's Last Legacy to an Only Child : or Mr. Hugh Peters' advice to his 
daughter, written by his own hand, during his late imprisonment in the 
Tower of London, and given her a little before his death." See Ap- 
pendix B. 



21 

stances like his, could not but have been subject. 
Many beautiful and affecting passages might be col- 
lected from it. He thus recommends an approving 
conscience. " Do not grieve conscience twice, it 
must be your best friend, yea, when friends, and 
world, and all leave you to solitariness. It will make 
a soft bed for you in your greatest sorrow. * * * * 
Remember, a good Conscience and Sin cannot live 
together: Let but this bird sing sweetly within, and 
let Heaven and Earth come together, — thou shalt 
be safe, my poor child." 

The following is his description of the Judgment. 
M You are to come before an impartial Judge, with 
a naked and open breast. Your wisdom will be, 
to carry your pardon in your bosom : there wit, and 
learning, parts, and wealth will get no hearing: 
there the eloquent orator is dumb — there greatness 
must give way to goodness ; there hypocrisic is un- 
masked, truth naked. There preaching, miracles, 
casting out devils, will not profit, but a name writ- 
ten in the book of the Lamb. The ever living God 
love you, and keep you to all eternity, my child." 

He thus describes Heaven. " Evil knows no 
place there ; Sin cannot dwell with that holiness ; 
Sorrow cannot mingle with that joy ; no more fading 
Riches, dying Friends, changing Honours, perish- 
ing Beauty 5 no more aking heads, nor languishing 
diseases 5 no more hearing the chain of the prisoner, 
nor anger of the oppressor ; no cry of what do you 
lack ? * * * * Where every bed is easie, being 
of never-blasting roses and sweets ; where every 



22 

room is paved with Love ; where Wisdom, Power, 
Mercy, and Grace have combined to make all glo- 
rious and pleasant. The Father of our Lord Jesus 
Christ preserve you to his Heavenly Kingdom, 
my poor child." 

Near the conclusion of the work, he sums up his 
good advice and good wishes to his daughter, and 
bestows his benedictions upon his country in some 
brief poetic effusions. The following is extracted 
from the lines addressed to his daughter. 

I wish you neither poverty 

Nor riches, 
But godliness, so gainful 

With content; 
No painted pomp nor glory that 

Bewitches ; 
A blameless life is the best 

Monument : 
And such a soul that soars a- 

Bove the skie, 
Well pleased to live, but better 

Pleased to die. 

For his country he expresses sentiments like these : 

I wish that Prince and Rulers, 

All that guide, 
May be good, and do good ; which 

Is god- like : 
And that their care appear, so 

To provide, 
That those of strength do not th« 

Weaker strike ; 
The end of ruies from Christian 

Polity, 
To live in godliness, and 

Honesty. 



•23 

In reading this little volume it is delightful to find 
that, in the trying hours in which it was written, his 
heart was turned with tender reminiscence towards 
his former connection with the church and commu- 
nity here in Salem. He thus mourns over his sep- 
aration from them. " It hath lain to my heart above 
any thing almost, that I left that people I was en- 
gaged to in New-England, it cuts deeply, I look 
upon it as a Root-evil ; and though I was never 
Parson nor Vicar, never took Ecclesiastical promo- 
tion, never preached upon any a gr e em ent for money 
in my life, though not without offers, and great ones, 
yet I had a flock, J say, I had a flock, to whom I 
was ordained, who were worthy of my Life and 
Labors; hut I could never think myself fit to be 
their Pastor, so unaccomplisht lor such a work, for 
which, who is sufficient (crjres the Apostle) ?" 

It is enough to make the heart bleed to think of 
the situation in which the •• poor child" to whom he 
addressed his dying advice was left. She was a for- 
lorn, forsaken, helpless creature, the memory of her 
revered father was loaded with infamy, she was 
utterly destitute of friends, of sympathy, and of the 
means of subsistence. " I do first," says the 
wretched parent, " commend you to the Lord, and 
then to the care of a faithful friend, whom I shall 
name unto you, if a friend may be found in this 
juncture, that dare own your name. And if I go 
shortly where time shall be no more ; sink not, but 
lay thy head in His bosome who can keep thee, for 
He sits upon the waves. Farewell — And since we 



24 

must part — must part: take my wishes, sighs and 
groans to follow thee, and pity the feebleness of 
what I have sent, being writ under much, yea very 
much discomposure of spirit. 55 After advising her 
to procure, upon his departure, a situation as a 
servant "in some godly family," he makes the 
following proposal. " But if you would go home 
to New-England (which you have much reason 
to do) go with good company, and trust God 
there: the church are a tender company. 55 Al- 
though the imagination is left to conjecture the par- 
ticulars of the life of this desolate young orphan, it 
is delightful to our hearts to think that she did seek 
refuge in that New-England which was so dear to 
her father. The God to whom he committed her 
in his dying hour did not desert her. There is rea- 
son to believe that the people of this place, that 
" tender company 55 to whom he commended her, 
received her into the arms of their love and compas- 
sion, and did for her every thing that gratitude and 
benevolence could suggest.* 

CO 

* In Hutchinson's Collection of Papers there is a letter from a gentleman 
in London to Governor Leverett, requesting him to inform the Salem Church 
of the wretched and destitute condition of the bereaved family of Mr. Peters, 
and to commend to its charity and care his wife, who, for years before his 
execution, had been afflicted by mental alienation. The daughter to whom 
Mr. Peters addressed his "Legacy" was born before he left America; her 
baptism is found recorded thus in our Church books. " IC40. 1st mo. 8. 
Eliza, daughter of Mr. Peters." After her father's execution, she came to 
America, according to his advice, and was kindly received by his friends. 
So respectable was the situation in which they placed her, that she was mar- 
ried to a gentleman of rank in Newport, Rhode-Island. It is probable that 
she removed with her husband to England, where she became a widow. 
There can bo no doubt that she lived there in affluence and honor, for she? 



25 

On the day after his condemnation, Mr. Peters 
was sufficiently composed to preach a sermon, it 
being the Sabbath, to his fellow convicts in New- 
gate. It was from this text, " Why art thou cast 
down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted 
within me? Hope thou in God, for I shall yet praise 
him." He was dragged to execution upon a sledge, 
and was compelled to witness the death of his friend 
and co-patriot, the former Solicitor General, Mr. 
Justice Cook; while in this situation, some one 
came to him, and reproached him with the death of 
the King. He replied, with the most perfect mild- 
ness and presence of mind, " Friend, you do not 
well to trample upon a dying man, and you are 
greatly mistaken, for I had nothing to do in the 
death of the King.' 5 When the body of his friend 
had been cut down and quartered, the savage execu- 
tioner came to him, rubbing together his hands 
besmeared in blood, and atrociously asked, " How 
do you like this, Mr. Peters ; how do you like this 
work?" The venerable patriot answered, " I am not, 

had influence enough to recover from the crown her father's foreign posses- 
sions, which had illegally been confiscated. Humphrey Devereux, Esq., a 
Member of this Church and Society, is at present the owner of an estate on 
the Marhlchoad shore, which originally belonged to Hugh Peters. The 
deed by which he holds it, was given to his ancestor, March 17. 1705, by 
11 Elizabeth Barker, widow, daughter and sole heir of Hugh Peters." She ap- 
pears to have been in America at the time of signing this deed. The sum 
which she received for the estate was over three hundred and fifty pounds. 
At its date she must have been sixty-five years of age. It is highly grat- 
ifying to our feelings to find evidence, in these few facts, which are all 
ihat we can ascertain concerning her. that the good Providence, to which her 
dying father entrusted her. supplied her wants, conducted her steps, and sur- 
rounded her path with blessings. 



2G 

I thank God, terrified at it ; you may do your worst." 
As he approached the gallows, he beckoned to a 
person whom he happened to know, and entrusted 
to him a piece of gold, having first bent it, to be con- 
veyed, as a parting token of affection, to his daugh- 
ter. "Tell her, 5 ' said he, "that my heart is full 
of comfort. I am ready to die ; weep not for me ; 
let them weep who part and shall never meet again. 
You and I shall meet again in Heaven ; and, before 
this piece of gold reaches you, I shall be with God 
in Glory, where is no night, no need of a candle, 
nor of the Sun, for the Lord will give us light." 
When he had ascended the ladder, he turned to the 
officer of the law, and said, in the most solemn 
manner, " Sir, you have slain one of the servants 
of God before mine eyes, and have made me to be- 
hold it, on purpose to terrify and discourage me ; 
but God hath made it an ordinance unto me, for 
my strengthening and encouragement." The last 
words he uttered were these, " Oh, this is a good 
day ! He is come that I have long looked for, and 
I shall be with him in glory." The faithful histo- 
rian, who has preserved for us a record of the sub- 
lime fortitude, and true christian courage of this 
great man during the awful closing scene, informs 
us that "he smiled when he went away." 

Such is a brief sketch of the life and death of a 
man, whose name is enrolled among the pastors of 
this Church. What a delightful privilege will it be 
to him, who shall write its history, to rescue this 
illustrious philanthropist and patriot from the re- 









27 

proach which has been suffered so long to lie upon 
his memory, and to hold him forth to gratitude and 
admiration, as the eloquent and consistent defender 
of the Reformation on the continent of Europe, as 
the compassionate friend and helper of suffering 
Ireland, as the active, disinterested and judicious 
benefactor of America, ajid as the intrepid assertor 
and faithful martyr of English liberty ! # 

Edward Norris succeeded Mr. Peters in the 
ministry here, and occupies an honorable station 
in our early history. He had been a clergyman in 
England before his arrival in this country. His 
character was very much respected throughout New 
England. In many different forms he was a public 
benefactor, and on several occasions of emergency 
our fathers appealed to his wisdom and ability to 
guide and rescue them. And they never appealed 
in vain. He exercised a salutary influence in pro- 
moting the industry, preserving the pence, and in- 
creasing the security of the colony. In religion he 
was actuated by a spirit of moderation, in his pub- 
lic conduct he was fearless and consistent, in his 
political opinions he was friendly to Liberty, and his 
patriotism was active, constant and ardent. After 
a useful life and peaceful ministry, he died, beloved, 
honored, and mourned by all. 

The life of John Higginson, although the mate- 
rials for his biography are defective, would compre- 

* The above must bo regarded as u mere outline of the character Rnd 
career of Hugh Paters. There is a great variety <>f tacts and eircMMtsnrflV, 
illustrative of his wisdom, benevolenee and usefulness, which I have been 
compelled to pass over without notice. 



28 

hend many circumstances of great interest. His 
history extends from the settlement of the colony to 
its seventieth year. He was the first person admit- 
ted to this church after its formation, and the last 
forty-nine years of his life were spent in the duties 
of its pastoral care. His youth, and early manhood 
were exposed to the severest trials, but a good Pro- 
vidence carried him safely through them. He al- 
ludes to them in the following simple and affecting 
language. " When the Lord was pleased in the 
year 1629 to bring over my Reverend and Godly 
Father into this wilderness, as one of the first minis- 
ters to begin the work of God here in Salem, I was 
then but a child of thirteen years of age : It seemed 
good unto God, only wise, to take my Father unto 
himself in the year following, then was my good 
Mother left as a desolate widow, with eight small 
children, (myself being the eldest) in a mere wilder- 
ness, with a very small estate; and in a condition 
very like unto that minister's widow and children, 
mentioned 2 Kings 4. 2, &c. yet such was the abun- 
dant goodness and faithfulness of the Lord our God, 
who keepeth covenant and mercy with his servants 
and their children after them, Deut. 7. 9. that he 
moved the breasts of many pious christians (who 
then lived wholly on the stock they had brought 
with them) out of their great respect unto my good 
Father, to express such a charity and liberality to 
his widow and children, that my Father's family 
was as well and comfortably provided for, as if he 
had been in our native land." * 



See Appendix C. 



29 

The life of this excellent man was protracted to 
the great length of ninety-three years. Throughout 
its whole course he was a beautiful specimen of a 
distinct and peculiar class of men, who in many 
points were possessed of a dignified and amiable in- 
terest, the primitive New England Ministers. His 
last days were spent in peace and honor 5 they were 
lovely and venerable. He was regarded as the Nes- 
tor of the Congregational Churches. His counsel 
was sought in every emergency — his sanction re- 
quested for every undertaking. Books, published at 
the time, were considered as stamped with a char- 
acter which would secure universal respect and con- 
fidence, if they were ushered fortli with his approv- 
ing signature. Cotton Mather's great work, the 
Magnalia, is graced and hallowed by a delightful 
prefatory commendation, written by the good man 
at the age of eighty-two. His grey hairs were 
adorned with that crown of glory, with which a vir- 
tuous old age always encircles the brows. The 
light, which had beamed from his pure and holy ex- 
ample during his long life, was collected and con- 
centrated with a supernatural lustre around his ven- 
erable form. The generations as they passed, knelt 
to receive his benedictions ; they crowded round him 
that they might enjoy, before he was taken away, 
that conversation, which a contemporary declares to 
have been "a glimpse of Heaven." He always 
welcomed them as they approached. And when 
they retired from his presence they felt that it was 
good for them to have been there. We can imagine 



30 

the hoary and benignant patriarch, standing among 
his younger brethren and successors, and saying, in 
the language of Jacob, before his departure, while 
his children and children's children were gathered 
around him, "bring them unto me, and I will bless 
them." At last he was called home by his Heav- 
enly Father. His dust reposes in our soil — let his 
memory be treasured up in our hearts — let his char- 
acter be honored in all our churches. 

The biography of Nicholas Noyes would em- 
brace the whole subject of the famous witchcraft 
delusion. Salem happened to be the scene on which 
it was most conspicuously exhibited, and it is under- 
stood that Mr. Noyes took a leading part in the 
transactions to which it gave rise. This extraordi- 
nary and awful passage in our history has never yet 
been discussed in a manner sufficiently thorough and 
elaborate to meet the demands which philosophical 
truth, and the reputation of our ancestors, equally 
and justly make. 

Mr. Noyes was distinguished, in his day, as a 
Poet, and it was considered by our fathers as a 
great addition to the value and interest of a volume, 
to have it prefaced by one of his ingenious and 
quaint effusions. The following character, drawn 
by a person well acquainted with him, was inserted 
in the Boston News Letter, and is also found in the 
records of the Church. 

" On Dec. 13, 1717, Died the very Reverend 
and Famous Mr. Nicholas Noyes, near 70 years of 
age, and in the 35th year of his ordained ministry 



31 

in this church. He was extraordinarily accom- 
plished for the work of the ministry, vvhereunto he 
was called, and wherein he found mercy to be 
Faithful, and was made a Rich, Extensive, and 
long continued Blessing. Considering his Superior 
Genius, his Pregnant Wit, Strong Memory, Solid 
Judgment, his Great Acquisition in humane Learn- 
ing, and Knowledge, his Conversation among men, 
especially with his Friends, so very Pleasant, 
Entertaining, and Profitable, his Uncommon At- 
tainments in the Study of Divinity* his Eminent 
Sanctity, Gravity, and Ptrfae, his Serious, Learn- 
ed, and Pious Performances in the Pulpit, his 
more than ordinary Skill in the Prophetical Parts 
of Scripture, his Wisdom and I'scfulness in hu- 
mane Affairs, and his constant Solicitude for the 
Public Good, it is no wonder that Salem and the 
Adjacent Parts of the Country, as also the Church- 
es, University and People of NeuhEngland justly 
esteem Mm as a Principal Part of ffteir Glory. 
He was Born at Newbury Dec. 22, 1617, and died 
a Bachelor." 

During the latter part of Mr. Noyes's ministry, 
George Cur wen, a young man of great promise, 
was settled as his colleague. He lived but three 
years after his ordination. His death occurred a 
few days before that of Mr. Noyes. The following 
tribute to his character is found in the records of 
the Church. 

" He was highly esteemed in his life, and very 
deservedly lamented at his death, having been very 



32 

eminent for his early improvements in Learning 
and Piety, his Singular Abilities and 6rrea£ La- 
bors, his Remarkable Zeal and Faithfulness in the 
service of his Master. A grea* benefactor to our 
poor. The Reverend Mr. JVbi/es his Zi/e was mwc/i 
bound up in himV 

The ministry of Samuel Fisk, who preached 
the First Century Lecture,* was turbulent and un- 
happy. An unfortunate disaffection and division 
occurred in the congregation which it would be 
useless here to investigate or describe. I would 
only remark that the documents which have come 
down to us, however they may affect our judgment 
respecting the conduct of the parties to the contro- 
versy, are filled with evidence of the uncommon 
talent and energy of Mr. Fisk. 

The ministry of John Sparhawk lasted nine- 
teen years. He was beloved in his life, and in his 
death sincerely and universally lamented. 

*Mr. Fisk preached the Election Sermon May 26th, 1731. It is a curious 
coincidence that he happened to be appointed to perform that service on the 
anniversary which marked the completion of the first, and the commencement 
of the second Century of the observance of the Annual Election in Massa- 
chusetts. He thus alludes to this circumstance. " If I do not mistake, we 
are now, in the affairs of this day, entering on the Second Century of choos- 
ing our Magistrates, within this Territory of the Ancient Massachusetts. And 
therefore, on this occasion, to call to mind our Fathers' public spirit, and the 
good success of it, is a proper reverence for their persons, principles and pro- 
ceedings ; and the just improvement we are to make of it, is our strict imita- 
tion of them. This is due to their patent, purchase, piety and prayers, and 
the alone fit discharge of that trust thereby committed to each succeeding 
generation. W 7 hat we have, we should account the purchase of their money, 
yea, of their very lives ; watered with their tears; sanctified by their extraor- 
dinary virtue, example and prayers to God; transmitted by their solemn 
charge to their children ; enriched and sealed with their toil and blood." In 
the concluding paragraph he prays " that this may be the happy beginning of 
a Second Century of Elections." 



33 

Thomas Barnard discharged the duties of the 
pastoral office twenty-one years. The congregation 
was celebrated during his ministry for the intelli- 
gence, refinement, and high literary cultivation of its 
members, and he was universally regarded by his 
contemporaries as a most estimable and excellent 
clergyman. He preached the Dudleian Lecture in 
1768. It is a very respectable performance 5 its spi- 
rit is earnest, enlightened and liberal ; its reasoning 
is sound and acute, clear and convincing ; a highly 
educated and refined intellect is disclosed through- 
out, and it proves that he was entirely familiar with 
all the metaphysical theories and rules of argumen- 
tation known in his day. 

The ministry of Asa Dunbar was of short du- 
ration. He had a high reputation for talent, and 
was very much admired by his congregation. He 
resigned his office at the expiration of seven years, 
and was succeeded by the present Senior Pastor of 
the Church. 

The sketches which have now been given of the 
lives and characters of its ministers, have been offered 
to your contemplation, not solely for the purpose of 
showing that it would be impracticable to condense 
into one discourse a full and adequate history of this 
Church, but also because, in themselves, they are 
highly appropriate to the occasion. Before relin- 
quishing the subject, it is proper to mention the in- 
teresting fact, that, although there have been four- 
teen regularly ordained Pastors of this Church, the 
ministry of my venerable friend and colleague, who 
5 



34, 

has been permitted to preside over and conduct the 
solemnities of this service, covers one quarter of its 
whole duration. It has been protracted beyond that 
of any of his predecessors; and in a few weeks, if 
his life shall be preserved through them, it will have 
extended itself to half a century. Let us join with 
him, my friends, in rendering thanks to that good 
Providence which has thus lengthened out his days. 
May philosophy and religion continue to shed a calm 
and holy lustre upon his path — And may God bless 
and illumine the evening of a life which has been 
spent in discovering and adoring his perfections, as 
they are revealed in his works ! 

In looking back along the history of this Church, 
our attention must not be engrossed by the contem- 
plation of individual characters however interesting, 
or of transient events however important. We must 
extend our vision until it reaches the very founda- 
tion upon which it was built ; and if we examine that 
foundation, we shall find that it rests upon a few 
great principles. To these principles let us give our 
attention. 

It has always been allowed that this was the First 
American Congregational Church. It is true indeed 
that those excellent and pious men at Plymouth, 
who were worthy of the glorious distinction, which 
they rightfully possess, of being the first and fore- 
most of the Pilgrim race, had maintained christian 
worship for years previous to the organization of 
this Church ; but for some time they considered 
themselves only as a branch of the church whose 



l 



35 

pastor, and a majority of whose members, remained 
in Leyden 5 and, owing to various causes, they did 
not become a distinct and fully constructed religious 
society, for some time after the establishment of the 
church here. It is upon grounds like these, that 
our claim to the character of the First American 
Congregational Church has been uniformly present- 
ed, and always allowed. 

But we go further, and maintain that this should 
be regarded as the mother of the Congregational 
Churches throughout the modern world. It is well 
known, to every one conversant with the history of 
the Protestant Churches, that Robert Brown, more 
than forty years before, conceived, and endeavored 
to put into operation, a scheme of christian social 
worship and ecclesiastical government, similar in 
many points to that adopted by our Fathers. It is 
also well known that John Robinson, on the conti- 
nent of Europe, and that Henry Jacob and John 
Lathorp, in England, had adopted substantially the 
same principles as those of Brown, and were the 
Pastors of Churches somewhat resembling our own, 
before the year 1629. But either these attempts 
were crushed in the beginning, or, if independent 
churches were formed, they were repressed by per- 
secution, or restrained by authority, and thus finally 
exterminated, so that no traces of them are now to 
be found. And, besides, they were not, in all 
points, conformed to the principles which were here 
defined, and declared to belong to a Congregational 
Church. 



36 



While inquiring into the principles, upon which 
this Church was established, we are, then, inquiring 
into the fundamental principles of a denomination of 
churches, which is spread widely over this part of 
our country, and which, we firmly believe, if its 
original principles shall be perpetuated and observ- 
ed, is destined to become a universal denomination. 
It is indeed a momentous inquiry. May our minds 
be liberated from prejudice, that we may be pre- 
pared to enter upon it ! May they be filled with 
light, that we may accomplish it by the attainment 
of the truth ! 

I. In the first place our Fathers defined the 
matter of a Congregational Church to be a body 
of men gathered by voluntary association, propo- 
sing to form themselves into an organized commu- 
nity for social toorship as Christians, and possess- 
ing in themselves, previous to a covenant, or pro- 
fession, or to the assumption in any form of the ec- 
clesiastical estate, all the powers, rights, faculties, 
and privileges, which are needed to construct and 
constitute a church of Christ. 

This will immediately appear upon an examina- 
tion of the circumstances connected with the estab- 
lishment of the Church on the 6th of August, 1629. 
Who were the persons that took part in the transac- 
tions of that occasion? There were, it is probable, 
four ministers present, each of whom had been or- 
dained, and two of them highly distinguished, as 
clergymen, in the mother country. And although 
there is reason to suppose that some among them 



37 

had not before made a profession of religion, there 
can be no doubt that many, perhaps the greater part 
of the laymen had been members of churches and 
professors of religion previous to their emigration to 
America, as was certainly the case with Governor 
Endicott. Still, notwithstanding all this, they seem 
to have divested themselves, with one accord, of 
ecclesiastical character. The ministers threw off 
their official faculties, the church-members were not 
recognised in that aspect. The whole company de- 
scended, as it were, to that equal rank, in which a 
state of nature would have arranged them. They 
entered, not as church-members, but as christian 
men, upon a free and open deliberation concerning 
the right method of erecting themselves into a re- 
ligious society. A form of covenant was proposed 
to them, and when they had, upon consultation, 
unanimously adopted it, they affixed to it their signa- 
tures, and thus became a Congregational Church. 

Now it would perhaps have been the most natur- 
al, it is certainly the usual course, for those, who 
were already church-members, and had, before 
leaving England, entered into covenant, to have as- 
sociated themselves in the first instance, and, in vir- 
tue of their previous character, to have superintend- 
ed the formation of the new church. But in pur- 
suing another course, in determining, that ministers, 
church-members, and all others who might be desi- 
rous of becoming members of the church, should, at 
the outset, stand on the same ground, and should 
cooperate, upon an equal footing, in acquiring sever- 



3S 

ally, and by their own act, the character and privi- 
leges of a church-member, they distinctly declared 
that they intended to erect their church upon the ba- 
sis, not of any powers transferred to them from other 
ecclesiastical bodies, but of those rights and facul- 
ties which men possess in themselves and originally. 
They asserted, and thus by their practice illustrated 
the principle, that a collection of individuals, volun- 
tarily associated, although previously possessed of 
no ecclesiastical character, and connected with no 
church, have in themselves all the powers which 
are necessary or desirable for the formation of a 
complete christian church. 

I repeat that our Fathers not only asserted this 
principle, but acted upon it, throughout the solemn 
work of laying the foundations of the Congregation- 
al Churches. In their capacity as christians they 
first marked out the course in which to proceed in 
forming themselves into a church. They then, hav- 
ing become a church, by a free election, appointed 
their Pastor, their Teacher, and their Ruling Elder, 
and, although the Pastor and Teacher elect had, as 
has been observed, exercised the powers of those 
offices in elevated and conspicuous spheres, before 
they left England, in order most implicitly to show 
that, in the newly formed church, they were to con- 
sider themselves as holding offices, and as invested 
with powers, which were wholly derived from elec- 
tion here, and not from previous ordination else- 
where, the brethren directed, that they should be in- 
ducted into their stations in the church, and receive 






39 

the pastoral character, by the imposition of the 
hands of one of their own number, the Ruling El- 
der. The faculties and privileges of office were 
thus emphatically declared to be founded upon a 
free election by the people, and to emanate directly 
from the electors. It was with reason that a con- 
temporary who had witnessed these proceedings, in 
writing to a friend, declared his approbation, in the 
following language. " Now, good Sir, I hope that 
you and the rest of God's people, with you, will 
say that here was a right foundation laid, and that 
these two blessed servants of the Lord came in at 
the door and not at the window.** 

Thus were Francis Higginson, Samuel Skelton, 
and after them, Roger Williams, and Hugh Peters, 
invested with the clerical office in the First Church. 
It is certain that this great principle was long pre- 
served in its integrity. When, forty- one years from 
the ordination of his father Francis, John Higginson 
was installed, the ceremony was performed by the 
laymen of the Congregation. Major Hawthorne, as- 
sisted by the deacons, inducted him to office by the 
imposition of their hands. The ministers of neigh- 
boring Churches were present merely as spectators 
and auditors. 

There is one very important point settled, so far 
as the authority of the first Congregational Church 
may be considered as decisive with respect to those 
which have proceeded from it, by the practice of our 
Fathers in this particular. By meeting and deliber- 
ating in the first instance, solely as christian be- 



40 

lievers, or as a congregation, and by designing and 
determining the character and form of the church, 
while acting in that capacity, they in reality declar- 
ed the essential, the primary and the ultimate sub- 
ordination of the church to the congregation. The 
church which they formed here was derived from 
the congregation, its modes of construction and of 
admission were arranged and settled by the congre- 
gation, that is, by the community which existed and 
acted before the church had been erected, or a sin- 
gle individual had been recognised as a church- 
member. It follows, as an undeniable inference, 
that the church must be regarded as necessarily 
dependant upon, and subordinate to, the congrega- 
tion, from which it was derived, and by which its 
form, character, and methods of procedure were 
originally determined. If we would adhere, there- 
fore, to the principles upon which our ecclesias- 
tical institutions were established, we must regard 
the church in this light ; we must, in short, admit 
that its title, Congregational Church, defines it 
with accuracy, and that it is a body included with- 
in, derived from, and, as a necessary consequence, 
dependant upon a congregation. 

II. The second principle which our Fathers es- 
tablished on the 6th of August, 1629, was the In- 
dependence of the Congregational Churches of all 
external jurisdiction. This principle is important 
beyond description or estimation. It was not only 
declared by the founders of this church, but, justice 
requires that it should be said, its whole history is 



41 

crowded with evidence, that it has been steadily and 
resolutely maintained to this day. It was declared 
at its foundation. The early writers inform us that, 
when Governor Bradford, with others, arrived during 
the solemnity of ordaining the first ministers, and it 
was proposed, that he should extend to the new 
church and its pastors, in the name of the christian 
brethren at Plymouth, the Right Hand of Fellow- 
ship, he was not permitted to discharge that interest- 
ing and friendly service, until it had first been pro- 
claimed, that no inference should ever be drawn 
from it, in support of the idea, that there was the 
least dependence whatever in this Church upon 
others, the least jurisdiction over it in any external 
body, or the least necessary connexion between it 
and other churches, wherever they might be. It is 
impossible to conceive of a clearer, or stronger 
declaration of entire independence, than that which 
was thus uttered by its founders, at the moment of 
establishing the Congregational Church. 

The principle of independency, as has just been 
said, has been maintained steadily and resolutely 
throughout the whole existence of this Christian So- 
ciety. Time and space would fail me, were I to 
attempt to describe all the instances which might be 
adduced in support of this assertion. Roger Wil- 
liams was chosen to succeed Francis Higginson, in 
opposition to the strong and repeated remonstrances 
of the Church in Boston, to which some of his pecu- 
liar principles had given offence. He and his wor- 
5 



42 

thy colleague, Mr. Skelton, fearlessly exposed them- 
selves to the reproaches of the ministers of the colo- 
ny, by expressing their disapprobation of the insti- 
tution of a Pastoral Association. They predicted 
that it would give rise to a Presbytery, and they 
called upon the churches, if they valued their liber- 
ties, to resist the first movements towards such a 
tyranny. The institution, which alarmed these vig- 
ilant guardians of the independence of the Congre- 
gational Churches, still exists under the name of the 
Boston Association, and although, to the honor of 
its members be it spoken, it has never produced the 
results which were apprehended, the ministers of this 
Church, in opposing it, did not think and act without 
reason. They argued with the wisdom of philoso- 
phers, they looked forward with the vision of pro- 
phets. The step, which they reprobated, has always 
been the first step in the progress of spiritual domin- 
ation. It was by extensive associations, in the first 
instance of ministers, and then, of churches, that 
the primitive congregations were gradually despoiled 
of their freedom, and brought in captive to enlarge 
the dominions of hierarchies — to swell the power of 
Bishops and Popes. It has been by the means of 
them, that Presbyteries and Consociations, too often 
perverted into the worst forrris of aristocracy by 
which human society can be oppressed, have in more 
modern times risen into being. 

Roger Williams was faithfully and resolutely pro- 
tected by the people of this place, through years of 



43 

persecution from without ; and it was only by the 
persevering and combined efforts of all the other 
towns and churches that his separation and banish- 
ment were finally effected. The late learned histori- 
an of Salem, the Rev. Dr. Bentley, says with great 
justice of Mr. Williams, that " he was not afraid to 
stand alone for truth against the world. 5 ' It was 
his good fortune to find in John Endicott, and in 
many others of his congregation in Salem, kindred 
spirits, ready and willing to take the same noble and 
magnanimous stand. They adhered to him long 
and faithfully, and sheltered him from all assaults. 
And when at last he was sentenced, by the General 
Court, to banishment from the colony, on account of 
his principles, we cannot but admire the fidelity of 
that friendship, which prompted many of the mem- 
bers of his congregation to accompany him in his 
exile, and partake of his fortunes, when an outcast 
upon the earth. It was in the midst of winter that 
they were thus driven forth from the civilized world. 
Can you not, my hearers, contemplate in imagina- 
tion a deserted and destitute company of men, 
women, and children, struggling through the deep 
snows of an unexplored wilderness ? The storm is 
raging over their heads, bending the strong oak, 
swinging the lofty pine, and shaking from their 
branches a constant accumulation of the drifts, be- 
neath which they are almost buried from sight. — 
Chilled with the frosts, and worn down by fatigue, 
how slowly they make their way ! Who are they ? 



44 

They <jre the minister of this Church, and a chosen 
band of his faithful flock ; and they are the victims 
of a bigotted interference, on the part of the other 
churches, in the affairs of that to which they belonged. 
They are thus cruelly exiled because they have acted 
upon the great principle of independency upon which 
the churches of New-England were here founded. 
But they were not permitted to perish in that dismal 
forest 5 a merciful Providence directed their steps, 
and preserved their lives. In the language of their 
pious leader, " as the same sun shines on the wilder- 
nesse that doth on a garden, so the same faithfull and 
all-sufficient God can comfort, feede, and safely 
guide even through a desolate howling wildernesse, 5 ' 
or, as he has expressed the same sentiment in verse, 
for Roger Williams also was a Pilgrim Poet : 

Lost many a time, I 've had no guide, 

No house, but hollow tree. 
In stormy winter night, no Fire, 

No Food, no Company — 
God makes a path, provides a guide 

And feeds in Wildernesse ; 
His glorious name, while earth remains 

O that I may confess. 

The Indians kindly received and hospitably shel- 
tered them. The hearts of these rude beings were 
softened, their confidence secured, and their affec- 
tions charmed by the kindness, honesty, and Chris- 
tian benignity which ever marked the deportment of 
Roger Williams. Throughout his whole history, 
he proved that it was possible to live on terms of 



45 

mutual good will with the heathen inhabitants of the 
land. In all his intercourse with them, he invaria- 
bly experienced, again to use his language, 

How kindly flumes of nature burne 

In wild humanitie. 
God's Providence is rich to his 

Let none distrustful be. 
In wildernesse, in great distresse 

Those Ravens have fed inc.* 

The exiled company were led to a place of refuge 
and safety, and there they lived, peaceful and pros- 
perous. They became the founders of a free Com- 
monwealth, and the name of him who conducted 
them is immortal. 

But it is not against the interference of ecclesias- 
tical bodies only, in the conduct of its affairs, that 
this Church has from the beginning raised its voice. 
It has resisted the jurisdiction of the civil magistrate 
in matters of religion. In the year 1636 Sir Henry 
Vane, recently arrived from England, was elected 
Governor of Massachusetts. This extraordinary 
man combined in his character, the accomplishments 
of the elegant gentleman of his day, the heroic cour- 

*The above extracts arc from " A Key into the Language of America, or 
an help to the Language of the Datives in thai part of America called New- 
England ; together with briefe observations of the customes, manners, and 
worships, &c. of the aforesaid natives in Peace and Warre, in Life and Death, 
on all which are added spiritual) observations, general and particular, by the 
author, of chiefe and special! use (upon all occasions) to all the English in- 
habiting those parts ; vet pleasant and profitable to the view of all men." — 
By Roger Williams. London, 1643. This work has been printed again 
(1827) by the Rhode Island Historic;:! Society — an institution which pr< ; 
to do much for American Literature and Antiquities. 



46 

age of the feudal knight, the zeal of a republican 
patriot, the ability of a powerful orator, and the 
wisdom of a great statesman. These were the qual- 
ities, which gave him such a conspicuous station 
among the eminent men of his eventful age, and at 
last brought down his noble head to the block. — 
There was however another quality, which, strange 
as it may seem, existed in connexion with these, 
and which, while in general it harmonized with them, 
sometimes overwhelmed and swept them all away. 
He was a religious fanatic. During his administra- 
tion, the excitement produced by Mrs. Hutchinson, 
was in one of its highest stages. He instantly 
plunged into the midst of it, and in his unreflecting 
enthusiasm, would have used the power of his office 
in directing and determining it. But it is recorded 
that Hugh Peters, the minister of this Church, 
sharply rebuked him to his face, and " plainly insin- 
uated, that, if governors would concern themselves 
only with the things of Caesar, the things of God 
would be more quiet and prosperous.' 5 

I cannot but pause to remark that there is some- 
thing peculiarly interesting in the similarity of the 
fortunes and fate of the two great men, who appear, 
on this occasion, to have been brought into collision. 
They devoted their lives to the same cause, and 
were at last crowned with a similar martyrdom. — 
The death of Mr. Peters has already been described 
at large. The death of Sir Henry Vane is one of 
the noblest incidents in English history. Writers 



47 

of all parties agree in testifying that his character 
towered into an unparalleled grandeur and sublimity 
while on the scaffold. He exhibited that Roman 
fortitude which was the perfection of humanity — and 
in addition to it, that Christian fortitude which 
transcends humanity. The King had promised, up- 
on the recommendation of Parliament, to pardon 
him, but had receded from his promise, and given 
orders for the execution. A friend requested Sir 
Henry to petition the King to fulfil his promise. 
" No, said he, if the King does not value his word 
more than I do my life, let him take it." He turned 
to address the multitude, but musicians had been 
placed near him to drown his voice ; after several 
vain attempts, he desisted, remarking " that it was a 
bad cause which could not bear the words of a dying 
man." Through the whole scene he displayed the 
calm courage of a hero, and the peace and hope of a 
Christian. 

The attempt to produce uniformity in religious 
opinion and practice, by means of Synods — an at- 
tempt which the whole history of Christendom 
proves to be worse than in vain — has frequently 
been made in New-England. The Church in Sa- 
lem dreaded the consequences of these assemblies in 
the beginning, and has more than once refused to 
submit to their enactments. I will mention a single 
instance. In the former part of this Lecture, a brief 
account was given of the Psalm Book used for a 
long period in our churches, and from which the 



48 

selections for devotional music have been made on 
this occasion. A Synod undertook to enjoin this 
version upon all the churches. The Church at Ply- 
mouth, and that at Salem refused to adopt it. They 
both were very much attached to the version of 
A ins worth which the Pilgrims brought with them, 
when they first came over the seas. Although his 
version embraced only a part of the scriptural 
Psalms, the circumstance that Ainsworth had been 
celebrated throughout Scotland, as a performer and 
composer of church music, strongly corroborates the 
conjecture, which we probably should all be apt to 
form, that the Bay Psalm Book could not possibly 
have been much of an improvement upon the more 
ancient one, to which these two churches perse- 
veringly clung. However that may have been, it is 
certain that quite an angry controversy arose upon 
this subject between the Salem Church on the one 
part, and the Synod, or, as it was in fact, all the 
rest of the churches on the other part, a controversy 
which continued thirty years. This Church resisted 
most inflexibly every persuasion, and every threat, 
and yielded at last to the only power on earth, to 
which a true Puritan would ever bow the neck — a 
text of scripture ! In the year 1667, the brethren, 
in church-meeting, agreed to use the New-England 
Psalm Book, in connexion with that of Ainsworth, 
not, as they expressly declared in their vote, be- 
cause the Synod commanded them to use it — not 
because all the other* churches of Massachusetts 



49 

used it — but because they thought, upon the whole, 
as their former version did not contain all " the 
Psalms, Hymns, and Spiritual Songs of the Old 
and New Testaments," that they were required to 
adopt it, by Col. iii. 16. ! * 

Throughout the last century, the same great prin- 
ciple of independency has been maintained by this 
Church. During the ministry of Mr. Fisk, there was 
an unhappy controversy between the pastor and 
some members of his church and congregation. It 
is far from my intention to enter at present upon its 
merits. My only object is to show how resolutely 
the principle just mentioned was defended during 
its progress. The disaffected, constituting a high- 
ly respectable minority, appealed to the other 
churches of the colony to interpose in their behalf, 
and once again was the Salem church brought into 
conflict, single-handed, with the combined churches 
of New-England. The contest continued for years ; 
and Mr. Fisk, supported by a majority of his people, 
put at defiance council after council, gathered from 
the whole colony, and holding their imposing sessions 



Thomas's History nf Printing, vol. 1. p. -h 7. A- authorities far the 
statements contained in this Discourse, the author would refer in general to 
Mather's Mngnalia, Hubbard's History, Savage's Winthrop, Bentley's 1 1 isto- 
rj ni Salem, Emerson's Histon of the Firsl Church in Boston, London Month- 
ly Repository, vol. I I. Peters' History of Hugh Peters, Dedication 8ermon of 
(he Firsl Church, IH*2(», and the " Annals of Salem." This last work is very 
valuable. The author. Rev. Mr. Felt, ofHumilton, .Mass. is deserving of the 
thanks of tin- citizens of the town of Sill em, and of the county of Essex. He 
has aimed to collect every thing, the knowledge of which ran possibly at any 
time, or to any person, be important or interesting. He is worthy of en- 
courageutcnt, and very many will be grateful to him for his disinterested and 
praiseworthy exertions to preserve and illustrate our history. 

7 



50 

here on the spot. He took his stand upon the prin- 
ciple of the independency of each Congregational 
Church. He thus expresses himself in a letter to 
one of the Councils. " Inasmuch as I, and a con- 
siderable number of my brethren of this church, 
have under our hands beseeched and entreated you 
not to come in council on our affairs ; I do there- 
fore now, in faithfulness to my great Lord and Mas- 
ter Jesus Christ, and to you, and myself, and this 
flock, of which I am by Divine Providence the Pas- 
tor, think it proper and necessary to demand of you, 
the Proof of the Institution of such a Government 
over particular Churches as a Council ? I shall 
stand ready to hear your Arguments, by which you 
shall endeavour to support, from express Scripture, 
your Appearance in this Body, Form, and Design, 
in this Church and Parish, the care, oversight, and 
government whereof, under and by Jesus Christ the 
Lord, is committed to me, not to yourselves, or any, 
or all others." * 



* The Council, to which Mr. Fisk addressed these lelters, was not, accu- 
rately speaking, an exparte council. It was not convened by the direct call 
of the aggrieved, hut, at their request, by letters missive from the Second 
Church in Boston and three other Churches. However reasonable the com- 
plaints of the aggrieved might have been, there probably would be no differ- 
ence of opinion respecting the propriety of the course of Mr. Fisk in refusing 
to recognise a council thus assembled. It is as consistent with the indepen- 
dence of the Congregational Churches, to subject themselves to the result of a 
mutual council, convened at their own request, as it is consistent with the in- 
dependence of individuals, to subject themselves to the decision of arbitrators, 
chosen by themselves, and invested by them with the power to decide. So 
also one party to a controversy in a Congregational Church may call an ex- 
parte council and take its advice, just r.s an individual, who may be a party in 
any controversy whatever, may take the advice of his friends. The principles 
of Congregationalism therefore, as they are expounded in this Lecture, admit 



51 

But it is time to bring this enumeration to a close. 
Enough I trust has been adduced to prove that the 
principle of the entire independency of particular 
parishes was deeply and visibly impressed upon the 
Congregational Churches when, on the 6th of Au- 
gust, 1629, they, here, started into being. It is the 
glory of this Church, that it has firmly and steadily, 
through struggle and through strife, maintained and 
perpetuated it. Let it not be thought, however, that 
it is for the sake of a vain boast that I have dwelt so 
long upon this topic. A more worthy and solemn 
purpose has been before me. Many of the Congre- 
gational Churches have departed from this principle. 
Oh that my voice could call them back ! Feeble 
as its authority may be, narrow as is the sphere 
through which it is heard, I would raise it in de- 
fence of this momentous principle. In the name of 
those wise and holy men, who here began the work 
of God in this new world, I would invoke all the 
ministers and all the people, as they value their 
Christian liberty, and the peace and prosperity of 
our Lord's Kingdom upon earth, to reassert it, to 
break loose from the chains which have gradually 

of mutual councils, and cxparte councils ; and their independency ia not, there- 
by, impaired or affected in the least. But it would be as great a violation of 
the independence of a church to compel it to submit to a council convened l>y 
the call of other churches, in no way directly connected with the question Bl 
issue, as it would he a violation of the liberties and rights of one, and, indeed, 
of both of the individuals engaged in any secular dispute or conflict, to compel 
them to acknowledge and submit to the decisions of an umpire not chosen di- 
rectly by themselves, but arbitrarily appointed by persons who have no legal 
power to act in the business, and who have no kind of connexion with them 
or with their controversy. See printed documents respecting the controversy 
between Mr. Fisk and some members of the First Church. 



52 

been fastened upon them, and to establish themselves 
again in the enjoyment of that independence, which 
their fathers and founders bequeathed to them as their 
rich and noble inheritance. 

It is impossible to describe or calculate all the 
benefits that would result from its establishment 
and observance. We can perhaps approach towards 
a conception of them, by reflecting upon the evils 
which have arisen from its neglect and violation. — 
More than half of the animosity, and more than half 
of the unhappiness, produced in New-England from 
the day of its settlement to this hour, have been oc- 
casioned by unnecessary interference, with the con- 
cerns of parishes, on the part of ministers and 
churches of other parishes. Ambitious and aspi- 
ring men have not been contented with the modest 
discharge of the duties which belong to the humble 
limits of a single congregation. They have sighed 
for a wider field, over which to stretch the sceptre 
of spiritual domination. They have gone out into 
other parishes, have taken them into their own keep- 
ing, have acquired a controlling influence over their 
ministers, and, too often, have compelled them to 
submit to their dictation, and act in subserviency to 
their designs. Whenever resistance has been offer- 
ed to their encroachments, the war-cry of heresy has 
been raised, and the whole country been shaken with 
the conflict, and torn with the strife. 

The unauthorised and absurd attempt has been 
made, and with too much success, to subject every 
single church, and every single minister, to the su- 



53 

perin tending care, and immediate jurisdiction of all 
the other churches and ministers combined. And 
these combinations have always been, at once, the 
theatre upon which a few master-spirits have exhib- 
ited, and the instrument by which they have exerted, 
an enormous and an irresponsible despotism in ec- 
clesiastical affairs. Thus have the churches of 
New-England, throughout their whole history, been 
the subjects, and the parishes the victims, of Con- 
gregational Cardinals, and of Presbyterian Popes. 

It is for the members of the congregations to check 
and remove this great evil. If they would be true 
to the principles and to the spirit of the Pilgrims — if 
they would vindicate and secure for their posterity 
that independence which is their rightful inheritance ; 
if they would preserve and perpetuate that blessing, 
which was the first their Fathers implored for them- 
selves and their descendants, when they knelt upon 
the rocky shore, with the stormy ocean, from which 
they had just escaped, behind them, and the dark 
and awful forest, in which they were to have their 
homes, and find their graves, before them, " freedom 
to worship God;" let them resolve to restore the 
Congregational Churches to their original indepen- 
dence and to Christian peace. Let them, in their 
respective religious societies, insist most zealously 
upon the sole management of their own affairs. Let 
them look upon that minister, whatever may be his 
denomination, however great may be his talents, 
who shall attempt to extend his pastoral care and 
authority beyond his own congregation, who shall 



5i 

carry dissension and bitterness into parishes, to 
which he has no other call than the restless and im- 
moderate promptings of his own spiritual arrogance 
and ambition — let them look upon him, as upon a 
common violator of the order, and breaker of the 
peace of society. Let this be done, and the liberties 
of the churches will be rescued and secured. 

While the Christian minister should pray for the 
extension of the Redeemer's kingdom over the whole 
earth, and should remember in his supplications the 
entire family of man, he ought ever to bear in mind, 
that, as the pastor of a Congregational Church, he 
has no authority to exercise the powers of his office, 
except so far as courtesy and brotherly kindness may 
require, beyond the limits of his own congregation. 
To that, should his interests, affections, labors, and 
sense of responsibleness chiefly be confined. He 
should feel that he has no right to interfere, what- 
ever doctrines a neighboring minister may preach, 
whatever sentiments a neighboring congregation may 
entertain. If he is desirous of promoting the pro- 
gress of what he may deem to be the truth, by other 
means than his pulpit and his pastoral office afford 
him, the press of this free country is open to him, 
and he should occupy it upon the same principles, 
and enjoy, in the use of it, the same facilities, as 
every other citizen of the republic of letters. 

What a glorious day would dawn upon New-Eng- 
land, were all the parishes and ministers to act upon 
these principles ! Then indeed would the beneficent 
influences of the gospel be felt and seen throughout 



55 

the land ! Every family, every village, every city 
would be blessed by the religion of the Prince 
of Peace. Each congregation would be secure of 
the concentrated exertions, and undistracted zeal of 
its minister, and each minister, thus left to himself, 
would pursue the studies and duties of his profession 
and sphere, without hinderance, and in the exercise 
of a free mind. Uniformity of faith would at first, it 
is true, be lost ; if that can be said to be lost, which 
in reality has never been gained. But there is rea- 
son to believe that the truth would finally and speed- 
ily be reached. As the order and peace of the 
material universe result from " all nature's differ- 
ence," so the order and agreement of the intelligent 
creation would result from the infinitely various ex- 
ercises of minds severally acting in their original lib- 
erty. The clear and simple truth would proceed 
from the multiform shapes of human opinion, pre- 
cisely as the serene and translucent light constituting 
that " circular splendor which we call day," is pro- 
duced by an endless variety of shades of color, 
mingling and melting into a compound in which they 
each disappear. Or if differences of belief should 
still continue, they would not be productive of dis- 
cord. As the several distinct notes and tones of 
music swell the volume, and create the charm of 
its rich and melodious sounds, so diversified senti- 
ments and opinions, if it were not for the interfering 
and jarring passions of men, would contribute to a 
delightful harmony in the intellectual and moral 
world. 



56 

If ever this blessed period should come, and let 
us all pray that it may come speedily, then would 
the devout petition be answered, which in the days 
of our ancestors rose from every pious heart, and 
which we have repeated in their own words, in one 
of the Psalms which has now been sung — her peace 
would be restored to Jerusalem — And, if they, who 
have been gathered to their Fathers, were permitted 
to contemplate the affairs of earth, with what joy 
and gratitude would the founders of this Church 
look down, upon the long-deferred, but glorious 
fulfilment of their hopes, and designs, and prayers, 
in the wide diffusion, through innumerable churches, 
sprung from their efforts, and established upon their 
principles, of freedom, peace, and truth ! 

III. The last great principle impressed upon 
the Congregational Churches at their origin was 
this — that " while they take care, according to Apos- 
tolic injunction, that all things be done decently 
and in order, it is their duty not to impose any 
thing, by ivay of subscription or declaration of 
faith, upon those ivho desire admission to the oi*di- 
nances, ivhich may not conscientiously be complied 
with by sincere Christians of all denominations V * 

Although the founders of this Church were zeal- 
ous believers of that general system of doctrines, 
which, in their day as well as in our own, was call- 
ed Orthodoxy, they took care to frame their cove- 
nant without expressing in it their belief of that 
system, or of any of its parts. You will look in 



*See Appendix D. 



57 

vain through that admirable document for the hy- 
pothesis of the Athanasian Trinity, or the meta- 
physical speculations of Calvin. That covenant is 
a perpetual and a worthy monument of the wisdom 
and liberality of the noble men who adopted it 5 and 
it will forever demonstrate, in language which can- 
not be misunderstood, their adherence to the princi- 
ple which has just been defined. 

But your patience and my strength would fail, 
were I to enter more fully upon the discussion of 
this point. I submit it to the judgment of those 
who hear me, whether the spirit of the Gospel does 
not urge upon us all the observance of this principle, 
so conspicuously established at the formation of the 
churches of New-England? — whether the peace, 
tranquillity and edification of our parishes, of every 
sentiment, would not be greatly promoted, and per- 
manently secured by conforming in this particular 
to the example of our Fathers? " I speak as unto 
wise men — judge ye what I say." 

I have thus, my friends, endeavored to recover 
and explain the principles of the Congregational 
Churches. Whether those principles were founded 
in wisdom? — whether they are in conformity with 
the spirit of the Gospel? — whether they are favora- 
ble to the promotion of the kingdom of our Lord 
and Saviour upon the earth? — and whether they 
are adapted to the nature of man, viewed both as a 
member of civil society, and as a member of the 
Church of Christ? — are questions which we leave 
most cheerfully, and with the utmost confidence, to 
8 



58 

the decision of the christian world. As for our- 
selves, we do not harbor a doubt, if the Congrega- 
tional Churches were to return to the principles 
which they inherited at their birth, so congenial are 
those principles with the religion of the New Testa- 
ment, and with the condition and reason of man, 
that their final diffusion among all churches would 
sooner or later be secured. But whether the day 
is near at hand, or is still far distant, when every 
worshipping assembly in Christendom shall be re- 
stored to that glorious liberty in which Christ has 
left them free, let it never be forgotten, that here, on 
this spot, where the Congregational Churches were 
founded, the great principles of christian indepen- 
dence and peace were in the beginning practised and 
proclaimed. 

The day, and the service, which are both nearly 
passed, cannot have failed to have made a deep im- 
pression on the minds of the members of this ancient 
religious community. In engaging in the duties be- 
longing to this Lecture, we have conformed to the 
precedent, which was established by those, who, a 
century ago, were connected with our Church and 
Society. We have obeyed the voice of their sum- 
mons, as it comes down upon us from their remote 
position through the long years which have since 
rolled away. In our turn we now transmit this 
commemorative observance on through the indefinite 
ages which are to come.* We, my friends, are en- 
joying, in independence and in peace, the privileges, 

•See Appendix E. 



69 

which were bequeathed to us by our first American 
ancestors, and which have been resolutely defended, 
and faithfully preserved in every generation. Let it 
be our care to perpetuate them. And as the periods 
shall successively arrive, which mark the revolution 
of a hundred years, may the voice of the Parent of 
the Congregational Churches here be heard, speak- 
ing to the far distant and widely separated genera- 
tions of her children. May she allure them to the 
paths of peace. May she arouse them to the pro- 
tection of their liberties. And while time is add- 
ing his centuries to her ) ^ars, and investing her 
with the increasing dignity of a more venerable age, 
may she bloom on forever, in the possession of that 
heavenly beauty which was stamped upon her 
youthful form. 

By this whole assembly the occasion must havo 
been regarded with interest. Our minds and hearts 
have gone back to the days of our Fathers. Wo 
have engaged together in the affecting duty of calling 
to mind their virtues and principles. We have 
raised our voices, to their God and our God, in the 
same language, in which they were wont to express 
their gratitude and devotion. We have reached 
forth the bond which unites us with them on the 
one hand, on the other with a distant posterity. 
The associations which crowd into our souls are 
indeed most solemn. We have been celebrating an 
occasion, which, on its previous occurrence, was 
observed by men, who, it is probable, were all 
mouldering in their graves when wo came into ex- 






60 

istence ! And where, when it next returns, where 
shall we he, who are here assembled? Time, in 
the revolutions of the seasons, will have crumbled 
the very stones, raised by faithful affection to mark 
where our dust may repose. The musing and con- 
templative, as they bend over their worn surfaces, 
will endeavor, perhaps in vain, to decipher the 
language which sorrow and love may have written 
there. Our spirits will have been restored to Him 
who gave them. Oh, how short and fleeting is the 
life of man ! We look backwards, and the only 
objects which meet our view are the crowded tombs 
of our ancestors ! We look forward — and, almost 
at our feetj we see our own opening to receive us ! 
Beyond, there is nothing disclosed to mortal vision, 
except those summits of time raised by occasions 
like this. We see their lofty peaks, lifted dimly, one 
after another, along the interminable space, with 
centuries of untried being lying shrouded in dark- 
ness between them. 

Yes, soon must frail man die. But there is a 
sense in which it may be said, that he can rise 
above the reach of death itself. He can secure an 
immortal existence on the earth as well as in heaven. 
His good works and good designs survive the de- 
struction of his corporeal fabric. They never per- 
ish. Each individual in this assembly can put forth 
a benign and auspicious influence, which will spread 
wider and sink deeper, throughout all time. And 
this is in reality an extension of existence — this is 
life— it is a higher and worthier life than that which is 



61 

« 

spent in the flesh. It withstands, without feeling it, 
the shock which scatters the frame back into dust. 
It floats uninjured on the bosom of that tide, which 
will overwhelm the name in oblivion. Our Fathers 
are now living a life of beneficence and glory around 
and in the midst of us. They live in the precious 
institutions and principles which they established 
and transmitted. If we would share with them, this 
their continued existence — if we too would live in 
the ages to come, after our bodies have been dis- 
solved and our very names forgotten, it is for us to 
uphold those institutions and maintain those princi- 
ples — it is for us to cherish them, and pass them on 
unimpaired. Let us then, by defending vigilantly 
liberty of religious opinion and worship, and by 
avoiding conscientiously encroachment on the rights 
of others, let us discharge the duty which our 
earliest ancestors here enjoined upon us, let us em- 
ulate their glorious example, let us carry out 
their wise designs ; thus shall we participate with 
them in that sublime reward allotted them on earth, 
the esteem, admiration, and gratitude of ourdesend- 
ants to the latest times; and when the periods of 
time, and time itself, are brought to a close, we 
shall be permitted to unite with them, and with all 
others who may have secured the approbation and 
promoted the glory of God by improving the con- 
dition of his children, in the eternal enjoyment of 
the still nobler rewards of a better world. 

And now, to the same Almighty and All-wise 
Being who guided and protected the Fathers, we 



62 

commit, with cheerful and devout confidence, the 
children. May all the generations, which are to 
come after us, as they move over this field of their 
existence, be fellow-workers with God in advancing 
the cause of his truth, and the kingdom of his Son 
upon earth. As the centuries succeed each other in 
their slow and solemn procession, may they all bear 
testimony to the rapid and triumphant progress of 
that holy religion, which is at last to bless every 
family of man. And when the churches on earth 
are to be gathered to the church above, and the 
Saviour shall come again to receive his own, may 
he lead forth, along the celestial fields, from this 
and every other temple made with hands, a glorious 
host of redeemed and adoring spirits, to throng 
the blessed courts of that temple not made with 
hands, eternal in the Heavens. 



APPENDIX. 



APPENDIX A— p. 3. 

Ab there is some misapprehension and diversity of opinion respecting' 
the right mode of conforming dates in Old Style to dates in New Style, 
it may not be improper to present to the reader that view of the subject 
which induced us to adopt the principle that 11 days should be added to 
the former, thus considering the 6th of August, O. S. to fall upon the 
17th of August, N. S. 

The Ancients were unacquainted with the precise length of a year. 
They founded their reckoning entirely upon lunar phenomena. 30 days 
were allowed to each month ; and V2 months were considered as com- 
posing 1 year. Consequently their year was only 360 days; and an 
error of more than 5 days occurred in each year. It is easy to imagine 
the effect, which such a constantly increasing difference between the 
natural and the computed year would in a short period produce. It de- 
ranged all the anniversary festivals, and introduced doubt and difficulty 
into every kind of calculation. In the time of Julius Cesar such con- 
fusion had arisen in the application of the names of seasons, months, 
and days, that it became quite intolerable. The Winter months were 
thrown back into the Autumn, and the Spring months into the depths of 
Winter. He undertook to remove the error, and institute a correct 
measure of the year. Acting under the direction of a celebrated mathe- 
matician, he ordained in the first place that one particular year should 
be extended to 445 days. This extinguished the difference which had 
then accumulated between the actual and the computed year — and in 
order to prevent for the future the accumulation of such a difference, he 
endeavored to ascertain the precise length of a year. This he conclud- 
ed to be 365 d. 6 h. He therefore ordained, that 365 days should be 
considered a year, and, in order to take up the extra 6 hours, that 1 day 
should be added to every 4th year. This was the origin of leap year. 
The measure thus established has since been called the Julian year. 

It is obvious that if 365 d. 6 h. were the exact measure of a year, the 
method adopted by Julius Csesar would have answered the purpose pre- 
cisely and forever. 



64 

But a year is not quite 365 d. 6h. — of course, a difference gradually 
arose again between the real and the computed time. A. D. 1582, 
this difference had amounted to 10 days. Pope Gregory XIII ordered 
10 days to be dropped from the supputation of that year. His order was 
obeyed throughout the Catholic countries. To guard against the re- 
currence of a difference, he directed that 3 leap years in each period of 
400 years, should be converted into common years, thus dropping 3 days 
in each 400 years. And in order to determine luhen they should be 
dropped, he ordained that every centenary year which can be divided by 
4 without leaving a remainder below the hundreds, that is that 1600, 
2000, 2400, 2800, &c. should continue to be leap years, but that all the 
other centenary years, such as 1700, 1800, 1900, 2100, &c. should be 
converted into common years of 365 days only. This is the Gregorian 
computation of the years. 

It has been adopted in every Christian country except Russia. Great 
Britain adopted it throughout her dominions, A. D. 1752. The differ- 
ence had then amounted to 11 days — ]1 days were therefore cancelled 
from the calendar of that year by act of Parliament. In this country, 
and wherever the Gregorian year, or New Style, had been adopted, the 
year 1800 was accordingly not accounted a leap year. By converting 
three leap years during 400 years into common years, that is by drop- 
ping 3 days during that time, we shall not be required to add more than 
11 days to dates in Old Style to bring them into New Style, for many 
centuries to come, although we shall have to do it, or else shall have to 
drop another day from the calendar at last, as I shall soon show. 

In Russia, however, the case is different. There the Julian year is 
still observed — no leap year is ever intermitted, of course the difference 
which Pope Gregory corrected has still gone on increasing, nearly at 
the rate of 1 day in 100 years. The Russians therefore with propriety- 
add 1 day, to the difference between their style which is old, and ours 
which is new, every 100 years. But if we, in imitation of them, also 
add 1 day every hundred years, to the difference between our dates in 
Old and New Style, it is plain that we shall be frustrating the design 
which we aim to accomplish, by changing 3 leap years in 4 centuries 
into common years. 

The time will come, should the world last so long, when we shall be 
required to add one day more to the number we have dropped, or to the 
-difference which we allow between dates in Old and New Style. It is 
easy to ascertain that time with precision. 

The Julian year was 365 d. 6 h. The true measure of a year, accord- 
ing to the latest observations, is 365 d. 5 h. 48' 45£". The unintermitted 
observance of a leap year every 4 years, would, as has been remarked 



G5 

before, have answered the purpose precisely, had the measure of the 
Julian year been perfectly correct. But it is found to have been too 
much by 11. 14j . This error accumulates to 1 day exactly in 12* 
years — 1 day therefore is required to be dropped every T2> years. Pope 
Gregory dropped 3 days every 400 years. This does not perfectly 
answer the end proposed. V28 multiplied by 3 becomes 3S4. The 
difference between 400 and 3*4 u K> — 1»"» years therefore remain in 
each 400 years unaffected by the Gregorian correction. When, in the 
successive revolutions of periods of 400 years, these periods of 16 years 
shall have amounted to 198, then 1 day more is to be added to the dif- 
ference of styles, or dropped from the calendar of those nations which 
use the New Style, but not before. It is ascertained by the following 
equation when that period will arrive. 

16 : 400 :: 138 : 3200 
ARer the lapse of 3200 years, from A. D. 1588; that is. A. P. 47- J. I 
more day is to be dropped from our calendar, or 1 day more is to be 
added to the difference of styles, making 1'2 instead of 11. 

There is one method by which it can be demonstrated that the l?th 
of August, 1829, corresponds with the «»th of Aug The exact 

length of a year, according to Playfair's Chronolo, 

By multiplying this by 100, we obtain the number of days. &c. in 
a century. By dividing the days in this result by 7. we obtain the num- 
ber of weeks, days, &c. in a cei. 



d 


h 






305 






100 




' 


15 


50 


w 


1 


■ 










1 " 



There are then in a ccn: eeks. and ."> days over. If we know, 

therefore, on which day of the week a century begins, we can deter- 
mine in what day of the week it terminates. The records say that the 
First Century Lecture was delivered on Wednesday. When the 9217 
weeks are accomplished, we are again brought to Wednesday. But 
5 days remain to be added before the century will be exhausted. — 
By adding 5 days to Wednesday we are brought to Monday — of 
course a Century which commenced on Wednesday, will come to its 
close on Monday. The 17th of August. 1?29, fell on Monday. The 
17th of August, N. S. 182 ierefore the Centennial d 

ponding to the 6th of 

Aug. 6th, 1729. The First Century Lecture was on Wednesday. 
_ 171 . 1829. The Second Century Lecture was on Monday. 

Aug. 171 The Third Centurv Lecture will be on Saturday. 

9 






66 



APPENDIX B— p. 20. 

On the last leaf of this little volume, the substance of its contents is 
compressed in the following brief synopsis. It is worthy of being pre- 
sented to every reader, as an excellent and comprehensive code of rules 
for the regulation of the heart and life. 

Whosoever would live long and 
Blessedly, let him observe these 
Following Rules, by which 
He shall attain to that 
Which he desireth. 

p. 



Let thy 



Thoughts 
Talk 


! 


r Divine, Awful, 
Godly. 

Little, Honest, 
True. 


Words 




Profitable, Holy, 
Charitable. 


Manners 




Grave, Courteous, 
Cheerful. 


Dyet 

Apparel 
Will 


- be ^ 


Temperate, Convenient, 
Frugal. 

Sober, Neat, 
Comely. 

Constant, Obedient, 
Ready. 


Sleep 




Moderate, Quiet, 
Seasonable. 


Prayers 
Recreation 




Short, Devout, Often, 

Fervent. 
Lawful, Brief, 
Seldom. 


Memory 




Of Death, Punishment 
Glory. 



APPENDIX C— p. 28. 

The following letter from the widow of Francis Higginson, acknow- 
ledging the generosity of which her son makes grateful mention, will 
be read with interest. It is from a copy in the possession of Wm. Gibbs, 
Esq. of Salem, a gentleman to whom I am under many obligations for 
his kindness in communicating information respecting our early history. 
He is honorably devoting a life of independent leisure to the collection 
of facts and documents illustrative of the character, and condition of our 
Fathers. The usefulness and beneficence of such labors will be more 



67 

and more appreciated, as, in the lapse of years, the tendency to con- 
template primitive events and manners, and to indulge in historical as- 
sociations, grows stronger and spreads wider among us. 

Mrs. Higginson's letter to Governor Winthrop, signifying - her ac- 
ceptance of compensation"* offered her: dated January 26, 1030. — 
From the original in the possession of one of her lineal descendants. 
" EMANUEL, f 
" Worshipful Sir, 

" My loue and seruice to you remembered, and to the rest of the 
gentlemen, with many thanks unto you all for your bountiful dealing with 
me, which is aboue my expectations, yet not aboue my necessities. Of 
your two proffers I accept with all thankfulness the two kine, and the 
house, J and that money in Mr Codington's hand. But seeing I am to 
[haue] my prouisions when the ships come, and then to haue many debts 
to pay for necessary prouisions which my husband bought, my request 
is, that you would be pleased to appoint me some of the money which 
lesser men are to pay : for I think that they did so respect my husband, 
as that they will pay it me. But if not, I am thankful for what you 
haue done. And so, good Sir, I pray remember my thankfulness to 
Sir Richard and to Mr. Dudlc. And so I leaue you to him that neuer 
leaueth his, and rest 

u Yours to command, 

"ANN HIGGISON. 
" January this 26 : 1030." 



APPENDIX D.— p. ■ «. 
FIRST COVENANT OF THE FIRST CHURCH. 
" We Covenant with our Lord, and one with another; and we do 
bind ourselves in the presence of God, to walk together in all his ways, 
according as he is pleased to reveal himself unto us in his blessed word 



* So endorsed by the Governor. 

t A form of salutation, with which it was formerly usual to commence 
letters. 

t By an original deed preserved among the files of the Quarter Court, in 
this town, it appears that this house was subsequently occupied by the Rev. 
-Roger Williams, and by him, upon Mrs. Higginson's order, sold to -Mr. 
" John Woolcott," of Salem. Woolcott by a deed dated Nov. 21, 1G35, 
conveyed it (styling it his ''misted") to William Lord, cutler : Mrs. Higgin- 
son then dwelling in Charles Town. The exact situation of the house is not 
known ; but it appears that it must have been very near, if it did not ad- 
join the lot on which the meeting house stood. 



68 

of truth ; and do explicitly, in the name and fear of God, profess and 
protest to walk as folio vveth, through the power and grace of our Lord 
Jesus Christ. 

" We avouch the Lord to be our God, and our selves to be his people, 
in the truth and simplicity of our spirits. 

" We give our selves to the Lord Jesus Christ, and the word of his 
grace, for the teaching, ruling, and sanctifying of us in matters of wor- 
ship and conversation, resolving to cleave unto him alone for life and 
glory, and to reject all contrary ways, canons, and constitutions of men 
in his worship. 

" We promise to walk with our brethren, with all watchfulness and 
tenderness, avoiding jealousies and suspicions, back-bitings, censurings, 
provokings, secret risings of spirit against them ; but in all offences to 
follow the rule of our Lord Jesus, and to bear and forbear, give and for- 
give, as he hath taught us. 

"In public or private, we will willingly do nothing* to the offence of 
the Church ; but will be willing to take advice for our selves and ours, 
as occasion shall be presented. 

" We will not in the congregation be forward either to show our own 
gifts and parts in speaking or scrupling, or there discover the weakness 
or failings of our brethren; but attend an orderly call thereunto, know- 
ing how much the Lord may be dishonored, and his gospel, and the 
profession of it, slighted by our distempers and weaknesses in public. 

"We bind ourselves to study the advancement of the gospel in a^ 
truth and peace ; both in regard to those that are within or without ; 
no way slighting our sister churches, but using their counsel, as need 
shall be ; not laying a stumbling-block before any, no, not the Indians, 
whose good we desire to promote ; and so to converse, as we may avoid 
the very appearance of evil. 

"We do hereby promise to carry ourselves in all lawful obedience to 
those that are over us, in Church or Commonwealth, knowing how well 
pleasing it will be to the Lord, that they should have encouragement in 
their places, by our not grieving their spirits through our irregularities. 

" We resolve to approve ourselves to the Lord in our particular call- 
ings ; shunning idleness as the bane of any State ; nor will we deal 
hardly or oppressingly with any, wherein we are the Lord's stewards. 

" Promising also unto our best ability to teach our children and ser- 
vants the knowledge of God, and of His Will, that they may serve him 
also ; and all this not by any strength of our own, but by the Lord Christ ; 
whose blood we desire may sprinkle this our Covenant made in His 
name." 



69 

At a very early period this covenant was displaced by another. It 
was restored and renewed at the ordination of John Higginson in 1660. 
In the course of time, it was again superseded, and for many years has 
not been used in the church. It would have been once more adopted a 
few years ago, when the covenant was changed, had it not been for the 
allusions which it contains to circumstances existing at the time of its 
introduction, but which have long since entirely disappeared from our 
condition and customs. Although it is not at present in use, wc still 
cherish it with reverence. We look upon it as a precious relic — as 
our charter of toleration and liberality ; we admire its truly christian 
spirit, and we consider the principles of duty which it expresses as worthy 
of our adoption and observance. The following extract from our records, 
will shew the foundation upon which the church now rests. 

" At a meeting of the Brethren of the Church, held at the house of the 
Senior Pastor, Nov. 28th, and continued by adjournment to Dec. 1st, 
1S27, the following Report, respecting admission to the Ordinances, was 
taken into consideration : 

" The Committee appointed by the First Church in Salem, to consider 
the expediency of adopting new forms of Declaration and Covenant, in- 
stead of those heretofore used, preparatory to Admission to Baptism and 
the Lord's Supper, have attended to the subject, and now submit the 
following Repokt. 

" As a free admission to the Ordinances of Baptism and the Lord's 
Supper is the right and privilege of all sincere professing Christians, it 
appears to be the duty of the Cliurch, in taking care, according to Apos- 
tolic injunction, that 'all tilings he done decently and in order,' not to 
impose any thing, by way of subscription, or declaration of faith, upon 
those who desire admission to these Ordinances, which may not be con- 
scientiously complied with by sincere Christians of all denominations. 

"The Committee, therefore, recommend, that instead of the form of 
declaration, heretofore used, preparatory to administering the Ordi- 
nance of Baptism to adults, or to the children of such as are not in full 
communion with the Church, the following form be adopted — viz : 

" Wc believe in Jesus Christ, as the Messiah; and we receive his 
religion, as the rule of our lives, and as a revelation from God." 

" The Committee also recommend, that instead of the form of Cove- 
nant, heretofore used, preparatory to admission into full Communion with 
the Church, the following form be adopted — viz : 

" We believe in Jesus Christ, as the Messiah ; and wc receive his 
religion as the rule of our lives, and as a revelation from God. 

" We have a deep sense of the imperfection of our past services, and 
of our need of improvement ; and we arc desirous of performing all our 



70 

religious duties, and of using all the means of grace provided for us. 
" With such views and feelings, we enter into the Communion of Dis- 
ciples of Christ, as members of his visible Church. 

" It is our earnest wish and prayer, that we may imitate his example, 
imbibe his spirit, and obey his precepts ; and that by walking together 
in the fellowship of the Gospel here, we may become prepared for ad- 
mission hereafter into the Church of the redeemed in Heaven." 
All which is respectfully submitted, 

D. A. WHITE, ) 

SETH LOW, V Committee. 

JOHN STONE, > 

" After mature deliberation, this Report was unanimously accepted, and 
the forms of declaration, therein proposed, adopted, to be used in future 
in all cases of admission to the Ordinances of Baptism and the Lord's 
Supper respectively." 



APPENDIX E— p. 58. 
Records of all the circumstances attending the Second Century Lec- 
ture, which would probably be interesting to our successors, will be 
carefully preserved, one in the Church Books, and another in the ar- 
chives of the Essex Historical Society. 

The following is the order of Exercises at the Second Century Lecture, 

August 17, (N. S.) 

PSALM CXXIL— Tune, St. Martins. 

A Song of Degrees. 

I joy'd in them that said to me, 

Let's at the Lord's house meet. 

2 O thou Jerusalem, within 
Thy gates shall stand our feet. 

3 Jerusalem is builded up, 
Into a city frame : 

Both beautiful and uniform, 
And compact is the same. 

4 Whither the tribes, the tribes of Jah, 
To Isra'l's witness go : 

That they unto Jehovah's name 
Their thankfulness may show. 

5 Because the thrones of judgment there, 
Established remain : 

The thrones that do unto the house 
Of David appertain. 



71 

C Pray for Jerusalem her peace, 
They prosper that love thee. 

7 Peace in thy walls, thy palaces 

In them let safety be. 

8 Both for my brethren and my friends, 

Peace be in thee say I. 

9 I'll for our God Jehovah's house 

Seek thy prosperity. 



PRAYER, BY REV. JOHN PRINCE, LL. D. 

SENIOR PASTOR OF THE FIRST CHURCH. 



PSALM CVII— 1 to 8.— Tines, China and Bradford. 

[The first, second, fifth and sixth stanza^ were sung to tin; tune of China, 

the third and fourth, to the tune of Uradford.] 

Qod $ Goodness to TwoeUers. 

With thanks unto lln: Lord con: 

BecatlN that gOOa 1 is he : 
Became his loving Kindnesses 

Last to eternity. 

2 So say the Lord's redecin'd, whom bought 

He hath from en'mies" hands. 
[I And from tin; east and west hath brought, 

From south and northern lands. 

4 In desert stray d. in desart way 

No dwelling place they find. 

5 They hungry were, and thirsty they, 

Their souls within them piu'd. 

• I Then they did to Jehovah cry, 
When they were in distress : 
Who did them set at liberty 
Out of their anguishes. 

7 In such a way as was most right, 

He led them forth also ; 
That to a city where they might 
Inhabit, they might go. 

8 O that men praise Jehovah would 

For his great goodness then, 
And for his wonders manifold 
Unto the sons of men. 



72 



LECTURE, BY REV. CHARLES W. UPHAM, 

JUNIOR PASTOR OF THE FIRST CHURCH. 



PSALM XLIV— Verses 1, 2, 6, 7, 8.— Tune, Missionary. 

To the chief Musician, for the sons of Korah. 
We with our ears have heard, O God, 

Our fathers have us told, 
What works thou vvroughtest in their days, 
Ev'n in the times of old. 

2 How thy hand drave the heathen out, 
And planted them thou hast : 
How thou the people did'st afflict,. 
And out thou did'st them cast. 

6 Because it is not in my bow 

That I affiance have : 
Nor is it any sword of mine, 
That shall at all me save. 

7 But thou hast from our foes us sav'd, 

And haters put to shame : 

8 In God we all the day do boast, 

And praise for aye thy name. 



PRAYER, BY REV. JAMES FLINT, D. D. 

PASTOR OF THE SECOND CHURCH IN SALEM. 



A Psalm of Praise. First Metre. 
Shout to Jehovah all the earth. 

2 With joyfulness the Lord serve ye : 
Before his presence come with mirth. 

3 Know that Jehovah God is he. 

It's he that made us, and not we, 
His folk, his pasture's sheep also. 

4 Into his gates with thanks come ye, 
With praises to his court-yard go. 

5 Give thanks to him, bless ye his name, 
Because Jehovah he is good : 

His mercy ever is the same, 

His truth throughout all ages stood. 



BENEDICTION. 



Mil FURNESS'S 



DEDICATION DIS( <)l IJSi: 



u i .11 in i: 



ADDRESS 



I. \VI\(i or THE CORNER STONE 



James Kay, .Tun. $f Co. Printers, 

Library Street, near Fifth, 

Philadelphia. 



*7 






DISCOURSE, 



PREACHED AT THE DEDICATION 



FIRST CONGREGATIONAL UNITARIAN CHURCH, 



PHILADELPHIA. 



NOVEMBER 5, 1828. 



RY WILLIAM HENRY FURNESS. 

N 



JifitiaTirlphuT : 

PUBLISHED FOR THE FIRST CONGREGATIONAL 

tTNITARIAN CHURCH. 

1828. 



DISCOURSE 



1 (OR. III. 1G. 



KNOW Vi: NOT THAT V F. ARE TNI - . TEMPLE OF C.oI> 



The act of dedication which we have now assembled 
to perforin is perfectly simple and natural. It consists 
in a solemn recognition of the purposes for which this 
building is in future to be used. This house is hence- 
forth consecrated not on account of any mysterious sanc- 
tity communicated to its walls by our present services, 
but simply as it shall answer the end lor which it has 
been erected. That end 18 a purely spiritual one. You 
have not reared this structure merely to gratify your 
tasie or to display your wealth. Nor have you ever sup- 
posed that any pile of wood and stone, however costly, 
could be, in itself and for its own sake, pleasing in the sight 
of Him who is here to be worshipped. Your views have 
been, I trust, altogether more enlarged. In the erection 
of this edifice you have had regard to the best interests 
of our nature, — to the grand cause of human goodness; 
and it is your aim to help forward the advancement of 
the world in all that is excellent and happy. This out- 
ward and visible temple has been reared for the sake of 
that inner sanctuary, that temple not made with hands, 



which is in the human soul, and where only He who is a 
pure and perfect spirit, and whose service consists in the 
constant exercise of kind affections and good principles, 
can be truly worshipped. 

And how is this spiritual object, the consecration of 
the human mind to the love and service of the Creator, 
to be advanced by this house ? What value is this place 
to possess among the means of our virtue and improve- 
ment 9 We expect no miraculous, no mystical influences 
to descend upon us within these walls. We do not ima- 
gine that by merely coming hither regularly we shall be 
any the more acceptable to God. Far from us be that 
delusion which has so extensively prevailed, and under 
which men please themselves with thoughts of security 
and mercy, simply because they go statedly to a certain 
spot and engage in a few mechanical observances. The 
good which this building is intended to do is real, and 
the mode in which it is to be done, plain and rational. 
It is by the salutary impressions here to be made, the 
elevated feelings here to be inspired, the virtuous prin- 
ciples here to be confirmed, in short, it is by the truths 
here to be dispensed and contemplated, that this house 
becomes the house of God — the gate of heaven. 

What now are the truths here to be taught ? What 
are the views which are to be inculcated from this place 9 
This question suggests the topics which befit the pre- 
sent occasion. It will be my purpose therefore to state, 
as briefly and distinctly as I can, the main views of reli- 
gion to which this place is devoted, and then to enume- 
rate the principal reasons why we have preferred these 
views to all others. 

Some statement of this kind, our peculiar circumstan- 
ces as a religious society plainly require. We are re- 
garded with a feeling of distrust and prejudice. We be- 



long to a denomination of Christians every where spoken 
against. And we owe it to the large and respectable 
community of which we are a part — that it may be dis- 
abused of all unhappy prejudices; we owe it to our- 
selves — that we may not be deprived of the great bene- 
fits accruing from the sympathy and countenance of our 
fellowmen; we owe it to God — that his truth may 
triumph, to declare our opinions and the grounds upon 
which we maintain them. Let our religious views be 
fully known, and that mass of prejudice which exists 
against us will soon be penetrated and removed. It is not 
what we are in religion, but what we are called, that pro- 
duces all the excitement among our brethren. It is not 
our Opinions that cause us to be objects of suspicion, 
for they are but very imperfectly known. The names we 
bear, these, like words of magic, conjure up in many a 
mind images of fear, frightful shapes that associate them- 
selves with us and with our opinions. It is no matter 
whether the terms by which we are designated be un- 
derstood, whether they have any definite meaning at- 
tached to them ; they need only to be repeated, as they 
have been and are, with a look and tone of pity or ab- 
horrence, and then they become the symbols of some- 
thing dreadful, and they to whom they are applied are 
looked upon as actuated by some malignant influence. 
Now let our opinions, what we are in religious profession, 
be thoroughly known. Let us use every fair opportunity 
of bringing men acquainted with our views, and opposi- 
tion of every sort will die away. I have unlimited con- 
fidence in the power of Truth. Only let her be seen, and 
every form of error shall vanish from before her, and the 
human mind will throw itself into her immortal embraces. 
I. We set apart this house to the teaching of that form 
of Christian faith which describes the one God as 



8 

strictly one person, of supreme, unequalled and unrival- 
led divinity, and infinitely exalted above all other beings, 
the perfect mind, the almighty creator and everlasting 
possessor of all things*. He has made man, not " for the 
glory of his sovereign power," but to glorify his benev- 
olencef . In relation to his intelligent offspring, the 
appellation of ' Father' by which we are encouraged to 
address him does but feebly express the tenderness of 
his love. To this great and good being we consecrate 
this building which our hands have reared. Hither 
would we come to have our minds filled with the thoughtof 
his perfections, impressed with asense of his indescribable 
goodness, to worship and adore him not because he needs 
any thing at our hands, but because by the frequent con- 
templation of infinite purity we ourselves shall become 
pure. Here may the one God, the Father, receive our 
undivided homage and be made the supreme object of 
our affections, and then this ground will be holy indeed. 
We dedicate this house to the solemn purposes of 
religion, believing Jesus Christ to be not the supreme 
God, but the great teacher whom the father sanctified 
and sentj; the anointed of God and his beloved son in 
respect of that moral resemblance w 7 hich he bore to the 
Deity, and unto which when men attain they become 
children of the Most High§. We receive him as the 
appointed revealer of the divine will, and the brightest 
manifestation ever accorded to the world of the divine 
glory. From him, from his spirit and character, we 
gather such conceptions of the Deity as nature in her 

* Deut. vi. 4. xxxii. 39. Zech. xiv. 9. Matt. xix. 17. John, xvii. 3. 
1 Cor. viii. 4. 6. 1 Tim. ii. 5. Eph. iv. 6. 

t 1 John,iv. 8. 

+ John, v. 19. 30. Matt, xxviii. 13. Acts, ii. 22. lCor.xv.28. John, 
viii. 42. x. 36. 

§ Matt. v. 41,45. 1 John, iii. 1. 



sublimest scenes never suggests and reason in her farthest 
advances has never reached. We regard his life, his 
instructions, his sufferings and his death in one simple 
light. He died for the same purpose for which he had liv- 
ed and taught, not to satisfy the divine justice — not to 
affect God, but to convince the understanding and com- 
mand the affections of man, and so to bind him to the 
love and service of the truth. Here, while we believe 
he was dependent on the Father for all his powers, we 
would receive his instructions as the commandments of 
God*, as the way to life everlasting. Here would we 
assemble to study his words and write them on our 
hearts, to gaze at his example and commemorate his love. 
We consecrate this spot to the holy spirit. And we 
understand by the holy spirit not a distinct personf, but 
the power of the Father, particularly as if is exercised in 
the spiritual world. God is all in all. We discern his 
presence in the external works of nature, but he is re- 
vealed in the spiritual system of things so much the more 
fully, that here we may be said to perceive God himself, 
the very spirit of God. All holy emotions and good 
impulses, as they result from affections which he has cgn- 
stituted to be what they are, we refer to him as their 
author. They arc the operations and influences of his 
spirit. Here may tiny be found for ever, pervading the 
hearts of sincere and humble worshippers. We dedicate 
this house to the presence and power of the holy spirit, 
the spirit of truth, of peace and of love. And, my 
brethren, whenever we assemble here and become con- 
scious of holy emotions and pious resolves, we should 
regard them as the indications of the divine presence, 
the motions of the divine spirit within. Then how hal- 

* John xii. 49, 50. t 1 <^or. ii. 11. 



10 

lowed will be the spot, where we are accustomed to feel 
the Deity in our souls ! 

We set apart this place to the inculcation of those 
views of human duty which imply the moral ability of 
man without any metaphysical reservations. We would 
hold it as a first and sacred principle, that if man is able 
to do any thing, he is able to do good and be good. 
And we would have the good dispositions here to be felt 
and the good purposes here to be formed, encouraged 
and confirmed by the consciousness, that as we are en- 
dowed with sensibility to admire, so do we possess the 
capacity of imitating all that is excellent and acceptable. 
Here too would we have it ever proclaimed to those who 
have wandered from God and disregarded his laws, that 
if they will forsake the evil and cleave unto the good, 
their sins will be forgotten and their pardon will be 
sure # . Here would we announce it as the grand prin- 
ciple by which God administers his government and man 
should guide his conduct, that happiness here and here- 
after, the rewards of this life and the life to come, will be 
in strict accordance with our works. 

I have now stated very briefly the religious views to 
the establishment and diffusion of which this house is 
appropriated. We solemnly devote it to the purposes of 
religion, believing in " the one God, the Father," — in 
Jesus Christ as the appointed messenger of God, " ex- 
alted by him to be a prince and saviour," — in the holy 
spirit, as the power of the Deity displayed in the consti- 
tution and energies of the soul, in the moral ability of 
man, and the eternity of moral distinctions. 

In declaring, as we now do most plainly, that we infi- 
nitely prefer these views to all other forms of faith, let 

+ Ezek. xviii. 



11 



it not to be supposed that we wish to see the opinions of 
others suppressed at any rate, or that we do not cherish 
the most cordial good will towards our fellow Christians. 
I am not going to vaunt our charity, but to tell the 
plain truth. We do hope, I confess, to see all error put 
down — down for ever, and the truth set up gloriously: 
and there is no doubt, if this hope were accomplished, 
that there would be sympathies between us and our 
brethren which do not and cannot exist now. But then 
we cannot for our lives discern but one way in which 
this desire is to be fulfilled. If all error is to be over- 
thrown, and truth is to triumph, it ran only be by per- 
mitting — nay, by encouraging in every possible way, by 
adjuring every individual man to come forward and de- 
clare distinctly and defend fearlessly what seems to him 
to be the truth. We are, one and all, from our very 
nature, liable to delusion and mistake. We have no 
miraculous illumination to expect, nor will any sober 
man pretend to it. We are all in the same condition of 
imperfection. Now how shall any of us who think w<_- 
have the truth — how shall we be sure, how shall we 
know, that we have it '? If their is Bueh a thinu as cer- 
tainty in matters of religion, it must be attained as it is 
attained in every thing else. And how do men arrive at 
certainty in other things ? Why. by the labours and 
efforts of many, by sending out a thousand eager minds 
to search for the truth. The domains of human science 
have been tilled with free and active labourers, and they 
have never been disturbed, except when an insane big- 
otry has rushed in and dared to seal the lips and arrest 
the steps of the inquirer. Thus the grandest results 
have been reached. Treasures of knowledge have been 
amassed. And the manner in which so much has been 
acquired is as manifest as the acquisition. Although every 



12 

mind is more or less liable to err, — and if the task of dis- 
covering all the truth that the human race thirsts after 
were imposed upon a single individual, however highly 
gifted, we might sit down and fold our arms in despair, — 
yet every thing may be expected from the labours of 
many, because there is a vast diversity in the mental 
constitution of men. Different minds see things in dif- 
ferent lights. One detects what escapes the eye of an- 
other. And if you call in many to the consideration of any 
subject, you may be sure that all the arguments and all 
the objections that bear upon the case will be gathered 
up. If you are seeking the truth in any department of 
human knowledge, encourage in others a frank avowal of 
what they conceive to be the truth. Collect all the in- 
tellectual power within your reach and bring it to act 
freely, and then if there is such a thing as satisfaction, 
it will be found. 

Consider now how matters stand with regard to reli- 
gion. Here is a volume purporting to contain a com- 
munication from God to man. How shall we know that it 
really is what it claims to be *? But supposing this ques- 
tion to be settled, as it is among all those who call them- 
selves Christians, how shall we know what is the nature 
of this communication °l One man finds-one thing in the 
Scriptures, and another, another, — and a third reads them 
differently from both. And they are all very confident 
that they are right. Now how shall it be settled who has 
the truth or whether any of us have it? By free discus- 
sion. By gathering the minds of men, unawed, chain- 
less, around the great subject. And then as we severally 
occupy different points of view, it will be seen under all 
its aspects, and its true measure and import will be attain- 
ed. When I recollect that the concern is most momen- 
tous, that it involves the soul's best good — the welfare of 



13 

the world — mankind's dearest hopes ; when I consider 
the Being whose character and will we are seeking to 
discover — the eternity into whose depths we would look 
— all the poor pride of opinion dies away within me, and 
I hear a voice — it is the voice of the spirit of Religious 
Liberty — saying, 'Cry, cry aloud unto all orders and de- 
nominations of men, and, in the name of God and for the 
sake of their own souls, bid them search and prove all 
things, and avow their conclusions and defend them with- 
out fear.' What matters it who finds the truth, if the truth 
is only found? What is the glory of its discovery to the 
rapture of its possession ? It is as much for our interest 
as our fellow Christians conceive it to be for theirs, that 
they should state and maintain by all fair means what 
they believe to be the truth. If their views are correct, 
then their fidelity to them will be the necessary means 
of establishing their correctness. If on the other hand 
we are right, the stouter the error that comes against 
the truth, the more signal her triumph, the more ex- 
tended her glory. 

It is scarcely necessary that I should have wandered 
thus far from the proposed order of my discourse to il- 
lustrate the spirit in winch we would hold our peculiar 
views, were it not apparent, after all the explanation of 
the simple principles of religious freedom to which the 
world has listened, that men still find a difficulty in un- 
derstanding how zeal and charity can dwell together in 
the same bosom — how a man can be warmly attached to 
his own views and at the same time kindly disposed to- 
wards every fair effort that may be made in favour of 
opposite opinions. The charity which we would culti- 
vate is no inexplicable feeling, and, I trust, no hollow 
pretension. As we seek the truth, and as we must be 
conscious that our own views, however warmly held. 
3 



14 

have been formed under a liability to error, we have one 
interest with all those who give us reason to believe that 
they cherish the same feeling, whatever their particular 
opinions may be. There is a fellowship between them 
and us, in comparison with which the ties of sect, of 
creeds, and articles, and written formulas are as the 
dead letter to the undying spirit — as matter to mind. 
It is a fellowship which no difference of opinion can dis- 
turb, no distance of space or time destroy. It gathers 
into one glorious company all the real lovers of truth 
of all time, — from among all people, nations and lan- 
guages. 

I cannot yet quit this topic without a word or two 
more. Although the doctrine of religious liberty is so 
plain, and it is so much for the interest of every deno- 
mination of Christians to cling to it, it is important to 
observe that there is a spirit abroad directly opposed to 
it. And it becomes us, it becomes every one who cares 
for the truth and for liberty, to watch that spirit closely. 
It shows itself in every effort which is made to intimi- 
date the minds of men — to scare them away from the 
examination of any particular opinions, in every dispo- 
sition which is evinced to prevent them from reading 
what others have written and from hearing what others 
have to say. What is this spirit but the same that in 
former times manifested itself in still grosser violations 
of common justice; that was not satisfied with overpower- 
ing men's minds by denunciations of future woe, by ap- 
pealing to their religious fears, but aimed also to visit 
them with the swift vengeance of the temporal power 
whenever they ventured to think differently from the es- 
tablished way. And to what but the same unhallowed 
practices would this spirit lead now, were it allowed 
to strengthen itself again 9 It would bring back ages of 






15 

ignorance, ages of mental and political servitude. But 
not to mention the infringement of the sacred rights of 
the mind with which it is chargeable, are they who 
cherish it at all aware, how directly it is calculated to 
injure their own cause and ruin their own best hopes? 
You are in pursuit of the truth. When you seek to ter- 
rify your fellow-men from going in a certain direction 
in opinion, how do you know but that you are shutting 
out their souls and your own from the ways of light 
and glory 9 'Ah! but we are convinced that we are 
right,' you say, ' and if we were to consent that what 
we consider erroneous views should have as fair a hear- 
ing as wc give to correct opinions, the former would 
become as prevalent as the latter.' What ■ miserable 
idea you must have of the truth ! Is it so, that truth and 
error are so little distinguishable? How then do you 
happen to be so confident ? Be assured that if they are 
freely and closely examined, as they never have been and 
never will be except where perfect freedom of mind is es- 
tablished, that truth will excel in beauty and power every 
thing that is opposed to it as much as the unmeasured 
dome of the heavens transcends this humble fabric 
which human hands have reared. 

I have one other remark to make in this connection. 
It will, however, bring us naturally to the second divi- 
sion of our discourse. It may be said that, according to 
the principle now laid down, we can have but little 
confidence in the correctness of our own views; for in 
so tar as we admit the possibility of others being in the 
right, our own convictions must lack certainty. It is 
true we are distrustful of our own ideas upon points 
upon which a great diversity of opinion exists, and we 
do not see how reasonable men can be otherwise. In 
fact, with regard to some subjects, the views of the 



16 

Christian world are so entirely at variance, that we are 
not only deterred from forming any opinions of our own 
— we are driven to suspect that there are no opinions to 
be formed. Nothing of this kind, however, is the case 
with the grand principles of liberal Christianity. They 
are undisputed. They are supported by the universal 
faith of Christendom. Who then can be more confident 
in their convictions than we are in ours ! 

II. 1. Let me now state it as the first ground to be 
mentioned of the preference which we avow for our own 
views, that no Christian has ever denied or even doubt- 
ed them. We believe in the unity of God — who dis- 
putes it °l in Jesus Christ as the sent of God — does any 
Christian reject him in this office °l in a future life and 
in the strict accordance of the divine awards with our 
works : are not these truths universally received among 
all denominations °l It is true our brethren hold opin- 
ions concerning God and the lord Jesus Christ and the 
nature and condition of man, to which they attach a 
great deal more importance than to the simple principles 
just specified, and by which the power of these first 
truths is sometimes almost wholly neutralized. Still they 
have never expressly and in so many words denied those 
doctrines to which we adhere exclusively, and they re- 
sent it as unjust to intimate that their peculiar views are 
inconsistent with them. Now when we consider what a 
discordant host of opinions covers the Christian world, 
what an immense influence self interest and passion in a 
thousand forms have had upon the human mind, indu- 
cing it to deny and to assert almost every thing, is there 
not a very strong presumption in favour of those views, 
which amidst the incessant and stormy fluctuations of 
human opinion, have always remained, sometimes indeed 
virtually disputed, never expressly, never perhaps ac- 



17 

knovvledged in all their importance, yet never directly 
denied. Such is the case with the doctrines of the di- 
vine unity, the divine mission of Jesus Christ, and the 
perfect retribution of God. So far as these truths are 
concerned, our respect for the opinions of our fellow 
men can have no other effect than to increase the confi- 
dence of our faith, and give us a degree of assurance that 
can be felt with regard to no other vie v. 

Hut some one will say, 'we object to you, not on account 
of what you believe, but because you do not believe 
more. Your offence consists not in believing, but in not 
believing. You do well so far as yofl go. Why do you 
not go further 7 J low few stop where you do? How 
do you reconcile this boldneM with the respect you have 
professed lor the opinions of Of And who are fOQ 

who urge this objection ! Are you of the Church of 
England? There are great men and excellent in your 
communion we know, with whom it would be a pleasure 
and a privilege to be associated. But then there is the 
and ancient Church of Rome. And we should 
still be chargeable with the boldness to which you ob- 
; for, in following you, we must dissent from all the 
illustrious men whom that church has enclosed within 
it- pale. Wn&tOYef may be the denomination under 
which the objector ranks, we should scarcely be better 
off than we are now. were we to yield to his suggestions. 
Suppose it were possible for us to ?o further than our 
own convictions lead us, what conceivable direction can 
we take by which we shall escape the charge of being 
deficient in a due respect for the opinions of our fellow 
men 7 There are so many paths before us, and in every 
one of them we perceive BO many wise and good men, 
that if authority were our only guide, we should really be 



18 

at a great loss, — in a most distressing condition. Let it be 
shown what the true orthodox road is, and then it will be 
time to question us because we refuse to go further. At 
present we must remain where we are. And we are 
the more inclined so to do, when we find that others have 
stopped here before us. And if their numbers are not 
large, still there have been among them some of the first 
and greatest men whom the world has ever known. 
Men who have thrown a light, like the sun's, along the 
loftiest paths of human knowledge, have found it good 
to be here and have gone no further*. And this is not 
all. To return to the remark with which we commen- 
ced, we find that so far as we go, we have the counte- 
nance and company of the whole body of believers, and 
that although they pass on paying little regard to the 
ground we occupy, yet no one expressly denies that 
it is true and solid ground. So far then as human au- 
thority ought to have any weight, we have a good rea- 
son for confidence, in remaining where we are. But 
there are other and still better recommendations of the 
place which we hold. It is a green and pleasant spot, 
watered by streams which are fed by the river of God, 
and of which they who drink shall never thirst again. 

Let us proceed to consider some other reasons for 
preferring our form of faith to those views which are 
more generally held. 

2. Liberal Christianity is a purely scriptural system, 
therefore we receive it. In proof of this point, it is 
wholly unnecessary that I should quote the scriptures 
expressly, after what has been said respecting the uni- 
versal agreement of Christians in those truths which we 
uphold as the first and the most important truths. If we 

* Milton, Newton and Locke. 






19 

had not the fullest warrant in scripture for our princi- 
ples — if these principles were not announced in the 
clearest manner by those sacred pages, they would have 
been directly denied long ago, and scriptural authority 
would have been claimed for the denial ; for nothing 
but the plainest declarations possible could have escaped 
misconstruction from the false and arbitrary modes of 
determining the meaning of the Scriptures which have 
been used. 

In the early ages of the church, it was for a long time 
an established rule of scriptural interpretation, that there 
were four different senses in the sacred records, that is, 
that one text might have four different significations, all 
equally true but not equally important. The existence 
of this mode of interpretation, denominated in ecclesi- 
astical history the allegorical mode, and its high repute 
among the most distinguished of the early Christian wri- 
ters, are facts fully established. Origen, the great light 
of the third century, went so far as to say that both in 
the historical and doctrinal parts of scripture, there arc 
many things false and fabulous which were introduced 
to be the medium through which the holy spirit might 
communicate hidden wisdom. To show to what extra- 
vagances this way of regarding the Bible led, it was one 
of the philosophical notions of the distinguished father 
just named, that the stars were animated beings, and in 
proof he quoted those passages from the Psalms, where 
the heavenly bodies, by a common figure of speech, 
are addressed and called upon to praise God. Thus 
the most figurative passages became literal, and the 
most literal figurative. I would not give the impres- 
sion that this arbitrary system of explaining the Scrip- 
tures is practised to the same extent now. Still, at the 
present day, the true principles of scriptural interpreta- 



20 

tion appear to be but imperfectly understood. One of 
the most popular doctrines of the day, the doctrine of 
regeneration, as it is commonly held, depends almost 
entirely upon passages severed from their natural con- 
nections, and understood without any reference to the 
circumstances under which they were uttered or writ- 
ten*. Every text is regarded as a separate indepen- 
dent truth. In fine, it seems seldom to be recollected 
that the Bible is a book, composed of human language, 
and consequently to be treated as all language, which 
is an instrument of thought and communication essen- 
tially imperfect, must be treated if it is to be under-, 
stood. 

The Scriptures are sometimes regarded as very ob- 
scure ; and their antiquity, the peculiar languages in 
which they are written, their frequent allusions to cus- 
toms and institutions and fashions of thinking long 
since passed away, their connection with the times in 
which and with primary reference to which they were 
written — these things no doubt tend to give them a 
degree of obscurity. But when all these circumstances 
are considered, when it is recollected too what strange 
and fanciful rules of interpretation have been applied 
to the Bible, the wonder is not that there should be 
such a motley throng of opinions to claim its autho- 
rity, — for there is not a book in the world that may not 
be made to teach as many opposite things if it is han- 
dled in the same way, — but that any light should break 
forth from it through the clouds by which it has been 
overshadowed. We must confess, and we cannot but 
admire the wonderful wisdom of Providence while we 



* Paley's sermon, entitled " Caution in the use and application of scrip- 
ture language," deserves an attentive perusal. 






21 

confess it, that there is an amazing plainness in the 
Scriptures, since, notwithstanding all the causes that 
conspire to darken them, there are certain truths taught 
therein which the most ignorant and unlearned cannot 
mistake, nor the most prejudiced gainsay. Those prin- 
ciples must be clearly stated which all men, of every 
order of intellect and every variety of interest, have 
found there : — and those principles compose our faith. 

If now the sacred volume furnishes evidence so full 
in favour of these grand truths we profess, while every 
man's fancy is more or less its interpreter, what a splen- 
did and triumphant testimony may we not anticipate 
from it, when common sense shall fully assume that 
high office, when a correct and rational system of scrip- 
tural interpretation shall be established and applied. 
Then it will be found that those truths which are the 
plainest are the most important, and that those passages 
which now appear to teach strange and startling doc- 
trines, and which are the occasion of so much dispute*, 
have received their peculiar character and construction 
from local circumstances, from modes of thought and 
speech comparatively unimportant, and which have long 
since passed away. That just ways of interpreting the 
Bible will be adopted, we have good reason to hope. The 
science of biblical criticism is receiving increased atten- 
tion, and its • esults can neither be doubted nor prevented. 

3. Liberal Christianity is eminently practical. And 
this is another reason why it receives our assent. Look 
at our form of faith, and you may discern this trait on 
the very face of it. Our views may not, I allow, excite 
the imagination so much as some more prevalent 
systems. But it is a very questionable recommenda- 

* See note. 



22 

tion of a religion that it is fitted to produce an im- 
mediate and overwhelming effect. If this were made 
a test of truth, there are some forms of paganism 
that might claim to be superior to Christianity. There 
has been a more complete excitement of the ima- 
gination, a more entire subjugation of the reasoning 
faculties under the religion of the Hindoos than has ever 
been witnessed under any form of the Christian faith. 
We are not therefore disturbed because our principles 
do not dazzle and overwhelm the mind. We care only 
to be assured that our system of belief is peculiarly fit- 
ted to obtain the assent of the reason, and to address and 
sway the affections of man. And to be assured that it 
is thus fitted, I say again, look at it. Consider, for in- 
stance, how it represents God. It describes this Being, 
who pervades all space and fills the universe with life, 
as having, with regard to his creatures, no spirit but the 
spirit of unutterable love, no purposes but the purposes 
of infinite beneficence. It teaches us that we and all 
things are always encircled by the arms and illuminated 
by the smile of an Almighty Father. Now suppose this 
conception of the Deity to become the living faith of the 
soul, would it not have an effect the most elevating "? 
Can we withhold our love from an object when it is seen 
to be infinitely lovely ■? Would not an entire confidence 
in God be inspired °l As from the very constitution of our 
nature we should be impelled to love him, so also we 
should be induced to imitate him. Assured too that his 
will is our happiness, how readily should we acquiesce 
in all the appointments of that will, in every thing which 
it may require us to suffer and to do. It is true enough 
the inspiration of this faith in God is seldom witnessed. 
And it is because the idea of the strictly paternal cha- 
racter of the Deity has never yet been fully admitted 



23 

into the mind. The most mistaken representations of 
God have been given. He has been clothed with attri- 
butes, which, while they have been called by the hal- 
lowed names of justice and holiness, savour of vindict- 
iveness and the despot's jealous regard for his own glory. 
The mind in its weakness is fascinated by the thought 
of Almighty power, and so the light of infinite love has 
been shut out or but partially perceived, and the affec- 
tions have never been addressed. 

Again, consider our views concerning Jesus Christ. 
It is not conceivable how their moral power could be 
increased. We believe him to have been a man, a man 
indeed who had miraculous communications with God 
and whom God entrusted with extraordinary power, but 
still a being made in all things like unto us*. Regarding 
him in this light, we can estimate his moral character 
and feel its loftiness and be impressed with the glory of 
his triumph over all the infirmities of human nature. 
As soon as you suppose him to have been superhuman 
by nature, all the peculiar force of his example vanishes. 
You have no reason to suppose that it cost him any ef- 
fort to be what he was, or that there was any particular 
power put forth. The trials and sufferings of our nature 
and condition could have no effect that we can conceive 
upon a being of a loftier sphere, nor could we feel 
that any peculiar glory had been displayed by such 
an one in passing through them without a stain. But 



* Hebr. ii. 17. As it is so common to ascribe tbe sentiments of individuals 
to tbe denominations under which they are ranked, it is incumbent upon me 
to say that I do not undertake to state precisely the opinions of all Unitarians. 
While they agree in the supremacy of the God and Father of our Lord, they 
entertain various views respecting the nature of our Lord himself. I be- 
lieve that I have stated above the opinions generally held by those Unita- 
rians with whom I am connected in this place. 



24 

some one will say, 'you believe Jesus Christ was visited 
with extraordinary tokens of the Divine presence and 
favour, and if so, was he not assisted as no other man 
ever has been assisted and is he not thus thrown as far 
out of the reach of imitation as if he were a being of an- 
other order V It is true he was visited with wonderful 
and miraculous manifestations of the divine love and 
protection, and these things were fitted to inspire him 
as they did with an astonishing spiritual power. But it 
is to be recollected that all the proofs of the divine 
favour which are showered upon us, while it is their 
object to awaken the best dispositions, very often ex- 
cite pride and vain glory. And when this is consid- 
ered, there is something unspeakably affecting and sub- 
lime in the idea of Jesus Christ, endowed with miracu- 
lous powers, connected with the Almighty Spirit as no 
other man ever was connected, and yet bearing these 
high honours with a meekness so wonderful ! Although 
in the possession of the power of controlling the laws of 
nature he was like God upon the earth, yet he never re- 
garded this likeness as a thing to be eagerly retained*. 
He never used his power for the sake of display or self- 
aggrandizement. He employed it in the great cause of 
truth, never on his own account, although stronger 
temptations than those to which he was exposed cannot be 
conceived. Wickedness was exhibited before him until 
his indignation was roused. Contempt was poured upon 
him without measure. Want, weakness and agony 
assailed him in a thousand ways. And yet never did he 
manifest the least wish to put forth the power which 
would have extricated him from suffering and covered 
his enemies with confusion. The consciousness of 

* Philipp. ii. 5—9. 



25 

his high office displayed itself in a singular and most 
impressive dignity, but never in the least emotion of 
pride. And his death — how full of moral sublimity ! 
Taunted by his enemies, tortured by the most excrucia- 
ting pain, he thinks not of the miraculous powers with 
which he was entrusted; but he dies — he dies, breathing 
forth affection for his mother, with pity for his murder- 
ers ! Now in all this is there not a moral exaltation far 
more affecting than the mere idea of physical greatness 1 
I cannot bear to allude to the common notion of Jesus 
Christ as the Supreme God incarnate; for I cannot be- 
lieve that my fellow Christians know what they are say- 
ing, when they speak of the Deity on the cross. Ac- 
cording to this idea there could have been no pain, no 
humiliation, except what was endured by the human 
nature of the Saviour. Overwhelming then as the scene 
upon Calvary may be to the imagination upon the Trin- 
itarian system, all the impression that is made on the 
heart comes from the view of human suffering. 

I might go into the examination of other parts of our 
form of faith in order to show its moral power, but the 
limits of a single discourse will not permit. 

The question may now be asked, if the spiritual effi- 
cacy of our opinions is so great — if the principles we 
profess are so superior to all others, why is not their 
superiority proved by their effects 9 Their superiority 
is not proved, perhaps, in any very striking manner among 
those who openly profess them, because the profession 
of any opinions, however sincere, although it greatly 
helps to make these opinions powerful, is not always 
enough to secure all the influence which they may aim 
to exert. Consider now the particular principles under 
consideration. We claim for them great practical 
power. What do we mean by this claim'? We mean 



26 

that these truths which we uphold are peculiarly fitted 
to build up the human character in all the beauty of 
virtue and to the grandest elevation and upon a solid 
basis, to invigorate the soul by the best habits of thought, 
feeling and conduct. Now all this cannot be done at 
once by the mere profession of the principles by which 
it is to be accomplished. Character is never formed in 
a day. It takes a long time to fashion it to any shape. 
And when it has once assumed a decided form, then it 
takes more time than the remainder of life commonly 
allows to make any considerable alteration in it. It is 
the result of a great number of influences exerted in a 
vast variety of ways. If our form of faith is to effect all 
we expect from it and to exhibit all the power which we 
believe it possesses, it is not enough that it gains a hear- 
ing now and then, or that it obtains merely the assent of 
the understanding and the profession of the lips. Its 
spirit must have been borne upon the accents of mater- 
nal instruction and breathed upon us in our very cradles. 
It must be the predominating influence to which our mo- 
ral constitution has been exposed. It must surround and 
accompany the soul everywhere. All this must rational 
Christianity do before it can be said to be fairly tried. 
And when it has been all this to a man and has neverthe- 
less failed to make him what he ought to be, then and not 
till then may you question its practical power and begin 
to suspect that we have made an empty boast. As yet 
our form of faith has not had an opportunity of display- 
ing its full influence. Many of those who adhere to it 
have come to the knowledge and profession of it late in 
life, after their characters have been formed under the 
ordinary discipline of the world. And none have had it 
fully and faithfully brought home to them. 

Under these circumstances, so far from considering it 



27 

an objection to Unitarianism that its influence is not very 
perceptible, we should be seriously concerned if we saw it 
followed by rapid and striking effects. We should begin 
to doubt whether it is that pure system of truth which we 
believe it to be. If it readily affected the minds of the ge- 
nerality of those whose previous self-regulation has been 
in no wise remarkable, we might suspect that it purchased 
its success by yielding something to the lower tenden- 
cies of our nature. History points us to those religions 
which were more or less earthly in their character, 
as having produced the greatest visible effects. The 
greatest apparent triumphs of the Christian faith were 
wrought at the period when it was most corrupted. And 
it may well afford a ground of suspicion when a religion 
falls in easily with men's feelings and exerts an imme- 
diate influence. Thete is some improper sympathy, 
some collusion, we may be sure. On the other hand, we 
may infer the perfect spirituality, the uncorrupt divinity 
of pure Christianity from its want of apparent success. 
Being spiritual, it can affect readily only spiritual beings. 
Every one that is of the truth, said the Saviour, heareth 
my voice. 

Kut although we may not he able to point to any 
Striking results of the principles of our faith among 
those who profess them, we have one ground of triumph, — 
and a great and glorious one it is. None could be more 
so. All the real moral worth exhibited under any and 
every form of Christianity, all the real moral advance- 
ment made even by those who oppose us most violently, 
we can trace to the operation of those simple truths 
which ive maintain as the vital doctrines of Christianity, 
and which enter into the composition of every system of 
Christian faith. Yes, all the moral improvement that has 
gone on in the world, the achievements of civilization, 



28 

the successes of liberty, the triumphs of mind over brute 
force, all of these are owing to the moral energy com- 
municated to our nature by those undisputed truths to 
which we cling as the great truths. Who was it that first 
read to the world the lesson of true freedom 9 It was 
that pilgrim band who, that they might be free in the 
highest of all concerns, left their native shores for a howl- 
ing wilderness. And to what did they owe the power 
which they exhibited 9 Not to their religious dogmas, but 
to that simple acknowledgment of God, as the only law- 
ful governor of conscience, which they maintained. The 
thought of their solemn relation to the moral Ruler of the 
universe was the principle that actuated them. 

Take the genuine moral excellence that may be found 
under any form of our religion, and you may see that it 
has been formed by that simple sense of moral obligation 
which requires only that strong conviction of the moral 
government of God which Christianity furnishes to 
create and establish it. While the most that can be 
said of the peculiarities of sects is, that they have never 
wholly neutralised those first great truths which all 
Christians receive to a greater or less extent, and to 
which we seek to pay our undivided reverence. 

Let it not now be said that our principles have no 
power ; for they have effected a great deal and at an 
immense disadvantage. They have been connected with 
errors and enfeebled by the connection — still they have 
operated upon private character and upon the state of so- 
ciety in that quiet, noiseless and unacknowledged way in 
which all the purposes of God are fulfilled. The light has 
diffused itself silently. The rain has fallen softly. The 
seed has germinated and sprung up, and the branches are 
shooting forth far and wide, and the nations are gather- 
ing the soul-sustaining fruit. 



29 

The professors of rational Christianity have sometimes 
been charged with indifference in the cause of truth. 
And if they have been less busy than their brethren in 
the diffusion of opinions, it is because they have seen 
the providence of God in numberless ways insensibly 
extending the influence of moral truth, enlarging its do- 
minion " not in word but in power," because they have 
seen all the improvements taking place in the mind 
and condition of man uniting to glorify the grand prin- 
ciples of their religious faith. 

4. Finally, we value our faitli not only on account of 
its general power over the human heart, but also because 
we believe it to be particularly fitted to the present 
advanced state of the mind — to the wants of man as he 
is now. There are circumstances at the present day 
which render our form of Christianity particularly inter- 
esting. There is a certain degree of religious indiffer- 
ence existing in society that deserves our notice. There 
is an insensibility to (rod and to the elevated and spiri- 
tual conceptions of religion, and it is increasing. It 
does not show itself in any open and general profligacy 
of manners. It is not proved to exist by the prevalence 
of any alarming vices. But it is seen in the neglect 
with which the whole subject of religion is treated, 
while every other subject is receiving unusual attention. 
While all the arts and sciences are advancing to perfec- 
tion, while their principles are carefully studied and 
closely applied to the purposes of life, the greatest of all 
arts, the most useful of all sciences, Religion remains 
unappreciated. Not that the institutions of religion are 
falling into rapid decay — not that the mass of society is 
devoid of religious feeling — not that many and striking 
efforts are not made in a religious way, but it is a fact 
that cannot be disputed that a great degree of religious 



30 

insensibility exists, and exists precisely in that class of 
society which, above all others, we should most desire to 
see interested in religion; whose example and influence 
would be by far the most valuable, — the intelligent and 
the cultivated. I speak not of these things for the pur- 
poses of complaint. I wish only to state the fact. It 
requires but ordinary powers of observation to perceive 
that the description of men to which I allude, and it is a 
rapidly increasing and a most respectable portion of 
society, is giving no cordial support to religion. There 
is an entire silence among them with regard to this great 
subject. They appear to have no interest in it and to 
feel that it would be unmanly to attend to its claims. 
The ancient feeling seems to be revived, and many of 
the intelligent and enlightened regard religion as the 
philosophers of antiquity did, as a thing necessary to 
gratify the superstitious propensities of the ignorant and 
weak, and to restrain the headstrong passions of the vul- 
gar. Accordingly, from a principle of prudence, their 
religious indifference goes no further. It never proceeds 
to ridicule or contempt. They only remain silent and 
withhold the weight of their influence and the power of 
their talents from the most important of all topics. Do 
you take up the writings of those who have advanced 
the farthest on the paths of human inquiry, who are the 
intellectual lights of the age and who discourse most 
eloquently on the economy of this life 1 You look in 
vain for some reference to religion. If there were no 
God in heaven and no life beyond the present, the silence 
upon these points could not be more complete. You 
return like the wearied dove to the ark, having in vain 
sought for some allusion which might give the assurance 
that beneath those beautiful speculations a solid sense 
of religion is to be found. 



31 

That this religious indifference of which I speak be- 
longs in a manner to the character of the times cannot 
be doubted. Scepticism is often the consequence of 
such' a rapid development of the mind as is now ta- 
king place. And then again that passion for utility 
which distinguishes the present day, disposes many to 
think lightly of every thing which does not bear directly 
and obviously upon the purposes of human life. Thus 
all the more refined and spiritual pursuits of our nature 
are in danger of being neglected. And religion itself, if 
its utility is not at once displayed, is impatiently thrown 
aside. 

But a still more efficient cause of the indisposi- 
tion to religion often witnessed, is the narrow, con- 
tracted and unworthy forms in which the subject is 
presented to the mind, and which, however well they 
might have suited a narrow and conti acted age, will 
not do at a better and more enlightened period. Men 
will turn away from them with ill disguised con- 
tempt. When they are learning to have larger and bet- 
ter views of every thing else, they will have larger and 
better views of religion, or they will have none. The 
religion that does not advunee with the advancing mind 
will most certainly be left behind. And here when we 
speak of improvement in religion, it seems to be suppo- 
sed that we wish to improve upon the Christianity of the 
New Testament. There could not be a more mistaken 
notion. So far from thinking to improve upon the gos- 
pel, I have no idea that Christianity ever has been per- 
fectly comprehended except by the holy mind of its 
founder. And this, by the way, is a consideration that 
gives new strength to our faith in Jesus, as a being who 
had extraordinary communications with God. It is won- 
derful enough, and altogether unaccountable save upon 
the supposition that God was with him, that one should 



32 

have arisen as Christ did in an ignorant and degraded age 
and shewn himself wholly in advance of it; but when it 
is seen that no succeeding age, however enlightened, has 
gone before him, that all the discoveries now made in 
morals are but the development of principles which he 
asserted, then not a doubt can remain of the divine mis- 
sion of this illustrious personage. 

When the truth came from our Saviour it entered 
minds more or less warped by prejudice, and contrac- 
ted by ignorance, and it took its hue and form according- 
ly, just as the seed is affected by the nature of the soil 
into which it is cast. And just in proportion as the hu- 
man mind is narrow and ignorant, its religious views will 
be narrow and imperfect: as it becomes enlarged, it will 
learn to cherish larger conceptions of God and its own 
nature, duties and destination. Now we regard the 
views of religion which are most commonly held and 
most industriously circulated as the views which origin- 
ated in former and less enlightened times. They are 
fast losing their fitness to the minds of men. Our own 
faith we believe to be much better adapted to the pre- 
sent advanced period. There is a truer sympathy be- 
tween it and the improved state of the world. That men 
are outgrowing the religious opinions generally held, is 
proved by the striking fact that the advocates of orthodoxy 
are beginning to deny their own doctrines even when 
stated in the language of their own books. In New 
England a change is passing over the features of Calvin- 
ism. " Do you think," asks one of the finest minds the 
Church of England boasts # , " do you think mankind 
never change their opinions without formally expressing 
and confessing that changed" However these things 

* Sydney Smith. 



33 

may be, it is plain that there is a large and valuable 
class of men upon whom the common views of religion 
have no sort of effect. And if any thing is to save this 
portion of the community from the most wretched indif- 
ference and scepticism, it is, we solemnly believe, those 
simple and noble views of religion to which, in the good 
providence of God, we have been permitted to attain. 

But I will not trespass any further upon your indul- 
gence. I have only time to remind you, my brethren of 
this Christian society, of the solemn obligation under 
which we are laid in the possession of the truth. You 
have erected this chaste and commodious structure not 
merely for your own comfort, but for the sake of a high 
and holy cause, for what you believe to be the glorious 
gospel of the blessed God. To give a real impulse to 
this great cause, it is not enough that you have reared a 
temple and come together now to devote it to God with 
solemn services. "Know ye not that ye are the temple 
of GodV* Build up then that altar in your hearts, 
around which all the generous virtues and holy qualities of 
which our nature is capable may gather with their per- 
petual offerings. Let this be the place where integrity, 
gentleness, and all purity of character shall be created 
and strengthened within us. Then this spot will be 
truly consecrated as the birth place of our virtues and 
our hopes. It will be consecrated not only in our own 
thoughts but in the minds of all those who may be ben- 
efited by our influence and our examples, in the hearts 
of our children and those who shall come after us. It 
will be consecrated in the eye of God and his favour will 
rest upon it. Command thy blessing upon it, O God, 
now and evermore ! 



34 



NOTE TO PAGE 21. 

When I say that the passages upon which the doctrines we reject are 
founded have occasioned much dispute, I mean that their signification has 
been disputed, not only by those who reject, but also by those who advo- 
cate the tenets which they are supposed to teach. Many of the texts ad- 
duced in proof of the trinity are denied to have any reference to the doctrine 
by one trinitarian commentator or another. It is an interesting question 
what proportion of the passages, commonly regarded as proof texts of the 
trinity, have received unitarian expositions from trinitarians. If it were de- 
termined, the result, I imagine, would be a little curious. Dr Doddridge 
rested principally upon Rev. i. 11, " I am Alpha" &c. His note on the 
passage intimates very strongly that to his mind the other texts used in prov- 
ing the trinity lacked strength. There is no passage oftener quoted and more 
confidently relied on than the declaration of our Lord, John, x. 30, " I and 
my Father are one ;" yet Calvin and a learned orthodox professor of our own 
day admit that the unity here stated to exist between God and Christ is sim- 
ply a unity of purpose, like that unity which our Lord prayed might subsist 
between God and himself and his disciples. — John, xvii. 21. There has 
been some disposition lately shewn to bring back to the controversy the fa- 
mous text, 1 John, v. 7, " There are three that bear record in heaven" &c. 
But if the comments of Beza and Calvin on the passage are heeded, it would 
prove nothing in favour of the trinity, as they tell us that the text states 
only a unity of testimony not of essence. Other instances of the same 
kind might be adduced. I shall only mention a concession of the Ro- 
man Catholic Milner. He is endeavouring to show the necessity of sub- 
mitting to the church as the only lawful interpreter and judge of scrip- 
ture. And he has this note — " one of the strongest passages for the 
divinity of Christ is the following, as it is pointed in the vulgate : Ex 
quibus est Christus, secundum carnem, qui est super omnia Deus be- 
nedictus in scecula." — Rom. ix. 5. ( Of whom is Christ according to 
the flesh, who is overall God blessed for ever.) But see how Grotius and 
Socinus deprive the text of all its strength, by merely substituting a point 
for a comma: Ex quibus est Christus, secundum carnem. Qui est super 
omnia Deus benedictus in scecula" (Of whom is Christ, according to 
the flesh. He icho is over all, God, be blessed for ever.) — (End of Con- 
troversy.) The alteration of the pointing in the original Greek has the 
same effect as in the vulgate — to " deprive the text of all its strength." It 
is scarcely necessary to say that the punctuation of the scriptures is of no 
authority. 



SERVICES 



LAYING OF THE CORNER STONE. 



March 26, 



On Tuesday, the 25th of March, the corner stone of 
the new church to he erected in Locust street near 
Tenth by "The First Congregational Society of Unita- 
rian Christians*' in this city, was laid with the usual re- 
ligious services. An introductory prayer having been 
offered by James Taylor, the corner stone was laid by 
Ralph Eddowes and John Vaughan. A memorial was 
then read by Ralph Eddowes, containing a brief account 
of the origin and progress of the society. The object 
of the building about to be erected was stated as fol- 
lows : — 



"This house we appropriate to the honour and sole 
worship of the High and Lofty One who inhabiteth 
eternity ; the Blessed and Only Potentate ; whom the 
heaven of heavens cannot contain ; who, dwelling not 
in temples made with hands but in unapproachable 
light, is not worshipped by men's hands, as though he 
needeth any thing, seeing he giveth unto all life and 



36 

breath and all things : This is that One God, beside 
whom there is no other : And who, being rich in mercy, 
for the great love wherewith he loved the fallen race of 
mankind, hath sent them the message of grace, truth, 
and salvation by his beloved and chosen son, Jesus of 
Nazareth, whom, by an anointing with the holy spirit 
and with power, He hath constituted the Messiah, the 
Christ, the one mediator between God and man, and in 
whose resurrection and exaltation He hath given assu- 
rance unto all men that He will by him judge the world 
in righteousness. 

Deo Optimo Maximo 

In saecula saeculorum 

Gloria." 

The memorial, from which the above is an extract, 
having been read, a copy of it, written on parchment 
and enclosed in a glass bottle, was deposited in the cor- 
ner stone by John Vaughan. The pastor of the congre- 
gation then delivered the following address : — 

" My Christian Friends : 

" In accordance with custom we have now deposited 
beneath this stone an appropriate record of this day's 
doings. We bless that goodness which permits us just 
sixteen years after the laying of the first stone of the for- 
mer church to assemble for a similar purpose with the 
prospect of a larger and more commodious edifice. We 
acknowledge our obligations to those respected mem- 
bers of the society to whose untiring fidelity we are 
greatly indebted for our present prosperous circum- 
stances. May their advancing years be illuminated by 
that faith to which they have been so cheerfully devo- 



37 

ted. It becomes us also upon this occasion to recog- 
nise and declare those religious views upon which the 
prosperity of the structure about to occupy this spot 
immediately rests. There is a foundation deeper than 
this visible one — a corner stone more solid and durable, 
upon which if we build not, we build in vain. 

"It is not to shelter our heads from the inclemency of 
the skies, from the wind and the storm, that we erect 
this house. We have a higher purpose. We would 
provide a refuge for our minds, a place where we may 
come for spiritual protection. It is here that we would 
find aid to enable us to act always from those principles 
of integrity, benevolence, purity, and habitual confi- 
dence in (iod, which become our condition and our 
hopes. To advance this grand spiritual object, we have 
commenced the erection of this church. And we must 
build it upon that stone which God has made the head of 
the corner — upon Jesus Christ; for his religion alone 
is competent to meet all the spiritual wants of our na- 
ture. 

" Accordingly, we now acknowledge, and we pray that 
it may be the deepest conviction of our souls, we ac- 
knowledge Jesus Christ as the Promised — the Sent — the 
Son of God, "approved of God by miracles and won- 
ders and signs which God did by him." Without him 
we can do nothing — nothing towards the better purposes 
of our being. By the appointment of the Most High, he 
is our Saviour ; and lie saves us from no ordinary evils, 
and by no ordinary means. It is from the deadliest mo- 
ral evils, from the excesses of superstition and the misery 
of doubt, from the bondage and wretchedness of sin that 
he rescues us, and by means of that moral power commu- 
nicated to the soul by the consideration of all that he 
did, taught, and suffered. 
6 



38 

" Jesus Christ imparts a saving strength to the mind by 
the spiritual energy of his instructions. He has declar- 
ed, so we understand him, that there is One God, and 
only one, without rival or equal, of strict undivided 
unity. Of this Infinite Being he continually spake 
under the affecting appellation of Father; calling him 
his Father and our Father; and we are encouraged to 
know what God is from what we know of a father's love, 
and to feel that He who lavishes upon the fading flowers 
a more than regal splendour, will make his intelligent 
offspring his peculiar care. Can any doctrine be more 
powerful than this to fill us with pure and elevated af- 
fections. Again, Jesus Christ has referred with un- 
doubting authority to a continued existence beyond the 
grave, and has himself been raised from the dead in at- 
testation of it. How rich in power is the sublime hope 
thus inspired ! And lastly, our great teacher has reveal- 
ed the perfect and just retribution of God. He who 
obeyeth shall be happy. He who sinneth shall be mise- 
rable. The ties which bind together virtue and happi- 
ness, sin and misery, and which exist in the nature of 
things, have been fully disclosed. 

"The author of Christianity saves us also by his exam- 
ple. Every one knows how much man, the creature of 
imitation as he is, is affected by exhibitions of qualities 
calculated to inspire respect and love. And every one 
who studies the example of Jesus may know what a pow- 
erful instrument it is in purifying the soul and delivering 
it from sin. 

" The instructions and example of our Lord are not the 
only means of human salvation. He saves us by his 
death. As that class of Christians to which we belong 
is supposed to think lightly of this event, I cannot help 
taking this occasion to declare my conviction that no 



39 

event has ever happened within the experience of man, 
or under the providence of God, so full of a spiritual 
efficacy as this. It is the last and strongest expression 
of the love of Him, who, for the sake of truth and huma- 
nity, permitted the most exalted being who ever trod this 
earth to surfer and die. Now may the Christian exclaim 
with the triumphant confidence of the apostle, " I am 
persuaded, that neither life nor death, nor things pre- 
sent nor things to come, nor height nor depth can sepa- 
rate us from the love that God has shewn towards us in 
Christ Jesus our Lord." If Jesus had not died as he 
did, we should want that perfect ground of confidence 
in God that wc now enjoy. 

u Again, the death of Christ was necessary to perfect 
that testimony which, upon the most solemn occasion of 
his life, he declared that he came into the world to bear 
to the truth. The truth of Christianity is not, to be 
sure, proved merely because its founder believed it and 
was ready to die for it : yet it is absolutely necessary 
that this, his own faith should be fully proved. And if 
Christ had not died as he did in attestation of what he 
had declared, " the strongest of all proofs, the most cer- 
tain of all tests would be wanting." His death finishes 
the grand argument, and gives completeness to the 
power by which sin and the grave are vanquished. 
There are other views that may be taken of the death of 
our Lord, which will shew its moral effect. In no way, 
however, do I conceive that it tends to advance human 
salvation, except as it reaches, convinces and commands 
the mind of man and reconciles him to God : all this it 
does with exceeding power. 

" And now, brethren, let these great views, at which I 
have briefly hinted, be laid deeply in your souls. And 
then, upon the broad and solid foundation of your faith, 



40 

the glory of this church shall rise. Its walls shall be 
salvation, and its gates praise. Here, in your own im- 
provement, in the virtues which you will here be aided 
to cultivate, most luminous tokens of the Divine Pre- 
sence will be accorded you. You will not only build 
up this church and your own souls in the beauty of truth, 
you will advance the great interests of uncorrupt Chris- 
tianity and true goodness. You will leave a large legacy 
to your children. So that, in the course of years, when 
the roof with which we are now about to cover this spot 
shall sink, when the walls, here to rise, shall be bowed, 
and our descendants shall gather around this stone to 
receive from it the memorial with which we have now 
entrusted it, vividly as this day's deed will be recalled, 
there will be a better, a more expressive memorial of it 
in the inestimable privileges which our fidelity will have 
helped to perpetuate." 



SSSIBSSOS 



OCCASIONED 



BY THE DEATH 



OF THE 



ffiefc* Samuel Worcester, £>♦ 2>. 

DELIVERED IN THE TABERNACLE CHURCH, SALEM. MASS. 

Jcly If, IBS!, 



BY LEONARD WOODS, D. D. 

ABBOT PROFESSOR OF CHRISTIAN THEOLOGY IN THE THEOLOGICAL 
-F..M1NARY, AXDOVER. 



SALEM : 

PUBLISHED BY HENRY WHIPPLE. 
PRINTED BY FLAGG AND GOULD, ANDOVER. 

JULY, 1821. 



SERMON. 



AND SAMUEL DIED J AND ALL THE ISRAELITES L\ME\ FED HIM. 

1 Sam. XXV. 1 

Wiif.nfai.fi a good man dies, the world sustains a loss. 

Though lie may have lived in a private and obscure condi- 
tion; there are those who knew the excellence of his char- 
acter, and must regard his decease as a subject of mourning. 
But among good men, there is an ob\ ions ground of distinc- 
tion. God has constituted his moral kingdom, as he has the 
natural body, and the body politic. Though there is but one 
body, there are many members. And though the mem- 
bers are all necessary ; some hold a place of higher im- 
portance than others, and the loss of them is more severely 
felt. When the apostle touches upon this distinction among 
Christians he docs it for the purpose of stigmatizing a spirit 
of emulation and envy, and of promoting mutual love and 
sympathy, and a paramount regard to tlie good of the whole. 
And why, brethren, should the difference, which God has 
made among the members of his spiritual empire, ever ex- 
cite any other affections, than these ? It surely would not, 
if we well considered what the difference is. For m 



truth, that man is marked with the highest distinction, who 
does the most good. Real greatness consists not in the in- 
dolent possession of a superior understanding, or superior 
worldly advantages. Nor does it consist in the most active 
use of such an understanding, or such advantages, except 
for the single purpose of doing good. All greatness, all 
distinction, showing itself in any other way than this, you 
are at liberty to despise. But if a man is great in good- 
ness and in usefulness, you cannot despise him, without des- 
pising the happiness of your species. His greatness is 
closely combined with the best interest of the world. If 
we love the best interest of the world, we shall love the 
man who promotes it ; and we shall love him most, who 
promotes it in the highest degree. In the contemplation 
of that great and blessed object, which benevolence seeks, 
we are raised above self-interest. We forget our individ- 
ual importance ; we forget every thing which makes a 
personal distinction, either in our own favour, or in favour 
of others. Let the highest degree of good be accomplished, 
whether by us or by others as instruments, and we have 
our desire. The only distinction among men, which is of 
any real consequence, is that which arises from the degree 
of their usefulness. Mere intellectual greatness, or mere 
worldly greatness is indeed an object, to which ambition 
looks up with impatient aspirations. But what is it in the 
sight of God ? or in the sight of good men ? It is the 
greatness of Christian benevolence, that we admire ; — it is 
the greatness, not of the man who has superior mental 
endowments, but of the man, whose superior mental en- 



dowmcnts are all devoted to the cause of Christ ; — the 
greatness of the man, who, feeling that he is not his own, 
presents himself a living sacrifice to God, and exists only 
for the welfare of his kingdom. This is the greatness 
that disarms hostility, that puts envy to shame, that at- 
tracts universal love, and that does not moulder in the 
grave. And this, brethren, is the greatness, which every 
Christian ought to seek; and which every Christian will 
seek, not in proportion to his pride, but in proportion to 
his benevolence. 

As this character of greatness is of such importance, 
and has always been regarded as of such importance, in 
the Christian community ; and as it is inexpressibly desir- 
able that it should exist far more frequently than it ever 
has existed hitherto ; I shall think it proper on this occa- 
sion, to inquire briefly, by what causes, and in what manner 
such a character is formed. 

Here I must begin, by ascribing to God all that con- 
stitutes excellence of character, — all that fits men for dis- 
tinguished usefulness. In God's hand it is to make great. 
He creates and sustains the immortal mind, with all its in- 
tellectual and moral powers. He creates and sustains the 
body, with all its vigour and activity. And it is by his 
Spirit that a man is new-created — " created in Christ Jesus 
unto good works/' Every thing which gives discipline and 
improvement to the understanding or the heart, is from 
God. Let it be that the powers of the mind are cultivat- 



6 

ed and strengthened by the diligent use of various natural 
means. Who appointed those means but God ? And who 
but God gives a heart diligently to use them, and by his 
blessing makes that use successful ? Be it so that Chris- 
tians are sanctified through the truth. It is God that sanc- 
tifies them in this very way. The truth is his instrument ; 
and from him comes all its efficacy. When therefore you 
fix your eye upon a Christian, who exhibits the character 
of distinguished greatness ; you see the workmanship of 
God, — the expression of his power and his goodness. Ev- 
ery Christian is what he is, by the grace of God. To God 
then be all the glory of those faculties, which distinguish 
men from the beasts of the field ; of that holiness, which 
distinguishes Christians from the ungodly; and of every 
degree of piety and usefulness, which raises one Christian 
above another. 

I say, it is God that makes great. But this, as has been 
suggested, is not to be understood as in any measure pre- 
cluding the use of means, or the importance of human ef- 
forts. We are left here, just as we are in any other case, 
to inquire into the process, by which God's design is accom- 
plished. 

It is here presupposed that a man possesses the requi- 
site natural powers, and real goodness of heart. How 
does he attain to eminence? The general answer is, by 
effort; in other w T ords, by the diligent application of his ac- 
tive powers to the proper objects of pursuit. It is a principle 



which I need not take pains to illustrate, that exercise, or 
repeated effort strengthens all our affections, and powers of 
action, and confirms all our habits. But the effect of ex- 
ercise varies according to circumstances. In the Christian 
who attains to eminence, the high effect of exercising the 
intellectual and moral powers may be accounted for in the 
following way. 

First. He directs the powers of his mind to a great 
and worthy object ; the salvation of men — the good of ChrisCs 
kingdom. If a man turns his thoughts and labours to the 
good of his country, his heart grows patriotic and noble 
But if he exercises his thoughts and affections upon Christ 
and his kingdom, the effect on his character will be a< 
much higher, as the glory of Christ and the value of his 
kingdom are more excellent, than any earthly object. The 
heart becomes assimilated to the object of its attachment. 
He that contemplates and loves the glorious character of 
Christ, is by degrees changed into the same image. He 
that employs himself in so great a work, as building up 
the kingdom of Christ, will have his character constantly 
ennobled by the nature of his employment. He will de- 
rive a greatness from the greatness of the concern in which 
he is occupied. Just as, on the contrary, a man contracts 
the character of meanness, by laying out his thoughts and 
labours on a mean and contemptible object. 

But the Christian, who acquires the character of 
greatness, contemplates the glory of Christ frequently, and 



8 

pursues the welfare of his kingdom with intense affection. 
And it is very much in proportion to the frequency of his 
benevolent and pious efforts, and the strength of feeling 
with which he makes them, that he experiences a saluta- 
ry influence upon his own mind. When a man comes to 
such a state, that the glory of Christ and the precious in- 
terests of his church are the objects of his steady contem- 
plation from day to day ; when he finds them present to 
his thoughts, rising up and lying down ; when they occur 
spontaneously; when their occurrence is attended with 
delight ; when other things, which formerly had a place 
in his mind, in a great measure retire; when these divine 
objects get so strong a hold of his thoughts, that no plea- 
sures, no cares, no sufferings can exclude them ; in short, 
when his attachment to the cause of Christ becomes his 
ruling passion, — the main-spring of his conduct ; then, in 
every thing excellent and praise-worthy he experiences a 
rapid growth. Whatever is earthly in his nature dies 
away. His thoughts and affections learn to range in a 
higher and brighter region. He acquires moral purity, 
and enlargement, and strength, with a success unknown be- 
fore. He advances farther towards the elevated charac- 
ter of just men made perfect, in a few days, than Chris- 
tians, at the common rate of improvement, in a long life. 

My brethren, do any of you aim at eminence in Chris- 
tian piety and usefulness ? See here what course you ought ' 

to pursue. And see here the course actually pursued I 

by that distinguished servant of Christ who has recently 



k 



been taken from us. Beloved man ! Wherever his name 
is known, not only among those who were personally at- 
tached to him, but through the Christian world, it is as- 
sociated with all that is precious in the cause of Zion. — 
With emotions which cannot be uttered, I shall now at- 
tempt to aid you, in soberly estimating the loss which the 
world sustains, in the death of so great and good a man. 
But let none of us forget, that his greatness and goodness 
were the gift of God — the gift of God to his church. 

Our departed brother was, in the best sense, a man of 
distinguished character. He possessed eminent qualifica- 
tions, and attained to eminent usefulness. The qualities 
of his understanding and heart were such, as would have 
rendered him beloved and useful in any condition. His 
virtues would have shone even in obscurity. Had he 
lived a private Christian, in the most retired village ; the 
inhabitants would have been enlightened by his wisdom, 
and benefited by his pious example and benevolent ser- 
vices. Had he lived in days of persecution, and had the 
power of his enemies immured him in a prison ; he possessed 
intrinsic excellencies of character, which would have shone 
with a salutary splendour, even there. His meekness and 
self-government would have checked the impatience of his 
fellow sufferers ; his affectionate counsels would have im- 
proved and comforted them ; and the holy ardour of his 
prayers and praises would have taught them the happi- 
ness of devotion. 



10 



But his peculiar greatness arose from the circumstances 
in which he was placed, and the relations which he sustained. 
It is indeed very obvious, that he had an original structure 
of mind, exactly suited to the work which God designed 
for him. Still it was his situation, — it was his being actu- 
ally called to his work, and successfully engaged in accom- 
plishing it, which made known the value of his talents, and 
led to their highest improvement. In a very important 
sense, a man is made by circumstances. The period of 
time when he lives ; the particular place where he acts ; 
the dispositions and pursuits of those with whom he is 
most nearly connected; the nature of the duties allotted 
to him, and the degree of early success, by which his sub- 
sequent labours are animated, all conspire to impart to his 
character the qualities, which it finally exhibits. 

Permit me now to glance at some of the leading 
events in the life of our departed brother, considered sim- 
ply as contributing to develope his faculties, to form his 
character, or to constitute his usefulness. 

I have no doubt that a skilful biographer, well ac- 
quainted with the early part of his life, could easily fix 
upon a variety of incidents, which tended at once to unfold 
the peculiar properties of his mind, and to produce those 
habits of thought, and feeling, and action, which afterwards 
became chief ingredients in his character. God knows 
for what service he designs every man; and he frequently 
gives such a direction to the events of childhood and 






11 

youth, that the peculiar properties of mind, which will be 
of use in the highest state of advancement and of effort in 
after-life, shall early have opportunity to be exercised and 
strengthened; and while the man himself and his friends 
around him know nothing of the matter, God is preparing 
him for his work ; and preparing him by means, which 
will afterwards be seen to have been exactly suited to the 
end, and so will be a subject of grateful acknowledgment 
and admiration. 

How far this was the case with our departed friend, 
others can determine, who are in possession of the requi- 
site information. My remarks can extend no farther, than 
to the commencement of his public life. 

He was first called to discharge the duties of a Chris- 
tian minister in a situation, attended with some peculiar 
trials. Those trials were important means of qualifying 
him for the work, which he had subsequently to perform. 
No man ever acquires strength and decision of character, 
without contending with difficulties. If all is smooth and 
prosperous, the mind contracts inactivity and softness. But 
the frequent occurrence of straits and sufferings raises a 
mind, happily constituted, to a high tone of resolution, and 
prepares it for firmness of purpose, and energy of action. 

Our brother passed through his first scene of public 
labour, with high advantage. I will not say that he avoid- 
ed every mistake ; though it would be difficult to name 



12 

any in particular, with which he was chargeable. Nor 
will I say, that he did not fall short in any ministerial duty ; 
though there is reason to believe he was remarkable for 
his diligence and fidelity. Before his removal from his 
first charge, he gave evidence of uncommon discretion and 
forethought ; of patience and self-control ; of great strength 
of understanding and integrity of heart, and of a warm, 
steady attachment to the interests of the church. 

In the year 1803, he entered on the duties of the 
ministry in this place. The station was highly important ; 
and it involved duties, which no man, without special 
qualifications, would have been competent to meet. I 
need not say, what is well known to the public, that he 
was uncommonly attentive to his ministerial and pastoral 
duties. He laboured with wisdom, and zeal, and self-de- 
nial; with feelings of tender sympathy and love; with 
firmness and perseverance. He kept his eye upon the 
spiritual interests of the church. It was his heart's desire 
and constant prayer to God, that sinners might be convert- 
ed, and believers abound in good works. A revival of 
religion, which he was permitted more than once to wit- 
ness as the fruit of his labours, he regarded as the most 
desirable of all events. As a preacher, he exhibited sound- 
ness of faith, manly strength of intellect, a cultivated taste, 
and a warm heart. His preaching was always serious, 
affectionate, and instructive; frequently animated and im- 
pressive. His church and people knew, — every parent 
and every child knew, that he loved their souls, and sought 



13 

their everlasting welfare. In all cases of difficulty, which 
occurred in the church or congregation, he was a most ju- 
dicious counsellor ; in affliction, a friend, a father, a com- 
forter. In a general view of his ministry, every one must 
say, he magnified his office. It is a rare thing, that a min- 
ister enjoys, in an equal degree with him, the affection and 
esteem of his people. And I wish I were not obliged to 
say, that it is a rare thing for a minister, in an equal de- 
gree, to love the sacred office. There was nothing more 
distinctly marked in his character, than the strong, perma- 
nent affection, by which he was united to the pastoral 
work. He cleaved to it, as to his life. You might as easily 
persuade others to dissolve the dearest domestic relations, 
as you could have persuaded him to dissolve his pastoral 
relation to the church. With this close adherence of his 
affections to the holy office, he could not but become more 
and more assimilated to the objects, with which that office 
made him conversant. The regular performance of its 
duties, prompted by his heart, as well as his conscience, 
and accompanied with emotions so delightful, imparted an 
increasing sanctity and elevation to his character. He be- 
came more and more a consecrated man. If I mistake 
not, it was evident to his intimate friends generally, that, 
during the last years of his life, he rose much higher than 
before, in every attribute of an eminent Christian, and an 
eminent minister of the gospel. This, I am aware, is to 
be ascribed to the effectual operation of God. But God 
operates through means. And while I w r ould not omit to 
notice the improvement, which our dear brother doubtless 



14 

derived from the repeated and severe afflictions, with 
which he was visited in his own family, and from other 
dispensations of divine providence ; I cannot but think, that 
one of the principal means of his improvement was the dil- 
igence, the affection, and the pleasure, with which he dis- 
charged the duties of the ministry. The employments of 
a Christian minister, animated by the true spirit of his of- 
fice, must contribute, directly and powerfully, to advance 
him in the exercise of every virtue, and to give him the 
visible impress of exalted goodness. And as this is the 
case, it must surely be a minister's fault, in a sense admit- 
ting of no alleviation, if, with motives so powerful, and of 
so high a sanctity, constantly acting upon him, and while 
executing functions which continually associate him with 
the Lord Jesus Christ, he still indulges low and grovelling 
affections, or contents himself with ordinary attainments in 
piety. 

But Dr Worcester's usefulness extended itself beyond 
his particular charge. His reputation for practical wisdom, 
and for an acquaintance with the principles and forms of 
ecclesiastical proceedings in New England, occasioned very 
frequent applications to him for counsel and assistance. 
And the public sentiment respecting him was finally such, 
that scarcely an instance occurred of great difficulty in our 
churches, where his advice was not earnestly sought. The 
collected thoughts, the forcible reasoning, the foresight the 
decision, which he exhibited in the business of ecclesiastical 
councils, gave him an unequalled influence over those who 



15 

agreed with him in principle, while they made him an 
object of dread, though of honest respect, to his opposers. 
But by nothing did he more distinguish himself in relation 
to such concerns, than by his sincere love of peace, and his 
success in reconciling contending parties, and in restoring 
order and tranquillity. 

The frequent agency he had in the transaction of ec- 
clesiastical business was itself an important article in the 
collected sum of his usefulness, and at the same time it 
contributed to increase all the estimable qualities of his 
character. It brought him into a closer connexion with 
the ministers and churches of Christ, made him more fa- 
miliarly acquainted with their circumstances, and gave him 
a more lively interest in their welfare. His extraordinary 
prudence, his ability, his affectionate concern for the order 
and prosperity of the churches, as well as for the useful- 
ness of ministers, gained him, in a higher and higher de- 
gree, the public confidence, and prepared the way for him 
to enter, with brighter prospects, into a more extensive 
sphere of public duty. 

He was distinguished for his ability and success as a 
defender of divine truth. His feelings were indeed averse 
to religious controversy ; though the peculiar structure of 
his mind, and his habit of close, patient thinking qualified 
him, as has been generally acknowledged, to be a distin- 
guished controversial writer. I should think it wholly in- 
congruous on this occasion, to agitate the question, whether 



16 

he or his opponents, in any case, had the advantage in ar- 
gument. I leave every man to decide this question for 
himself. But I think it the least that justice requires of 
me, to remark, that those who receive the common doc- 
trines of the New England churches, and of the Reform- 
ed churches in Europe, must consider it as a special favour 
of heaven, that they have, I will not say the opinions, but 
the arguments of Dr Worcester on the grand controver- 
sy of the present day. A writer possessing such a culti- 
vated, discriminating mind, as he possessed, —such manly 
thought, such moderation and candour, united with such 
earnestness and decision, would be deemed a credit to any 
cause, in any age of the world. 

But this assembly well knows, that I have not yet 
mentioned what chiefly accounts for the elevation of our 
dear brother's character, or chiefly constituted the useful- 
ness of his life. I refer to his connexion with the Mission- 
ary cause ; first, with the Massachusetts Missionary Society, 
of which he was many years Secretary, and afterwards 
President ; and then finally, and chiefly, with the Foreign 
Missions from America. — You will not understand me as 
intending to imply, that there is any office on earth, more 
exalted and holy, than the Christian ministry, or any object 
more important than that, which the ministry is designed 
to promote. The fact is, the Missionary cause is the 
same as that, which every minister and every Christian 
labours to promote. It is the same cause, taken in its 
most extended sense. 7/ is the cause of benevolence, — the 



17 

cause of 'Christ, in relation to the whole unevangelized world. 
And the office which our departed brother filled, in con- 
nexion with the Missionary cause, was the office of a Chris- 
tian minister, in its largest sense. As to the extent of its 
design, it resembled the office of the apostles, who were 
commissioned to " go into all the world, and preach the 
gospel to every 7 creature.*' The office to which I allude, 
was not strictly that of a Missionary ; but of a general 
agent for the missionary eause. Now if I would show you 
exactly what Dk Worcester was j if I would fix vour eve 
upon the highest distinction which marked his character; 
I must not mention merely his original powers of mind, nor 
his diligence and success m the acquisition of knowledge, 
nor his assiduous and acceptable discharge of the duties of 
a pastor and preacher, nor his useful efforts in regard to 
the order and prosperity of particular churches, or to the 
right conduct of our ecclesiastical aifairs generally, nor his 
able defence of the scripture doctrine of the divine glory of 
Christ; — I must not stop with any or all of these; but 
must present the beloved, the honoured man before you, 
as Corresponding Secretary of the American Board of 
Commissioners for Foreign Missions. It was lor this office 
he was disignated in the purpose of God. It was for this 
office, so important and arduous, that all his previous offices 
and labours and trials contributed to prepare him. It was 
in this office, that his peculiar talents found room for their 
most appropriate and perfect exercise. Here he was in 
his proper place, his element. And here, through the mer- 
3 



18 



ey of God, his character acquired its brightest and purest 
lustre. 

But I wish no man to satisfy himself with these gene- 
ral remarks. Let the subject be thoroughly examined. 
No office is of any consideration, except on account of the 
end, which is to be answered by it. If the office of Cor- 
responding Secretary was really important, it must have 
been because Missions to the heathen world are impor- 
tant. Would you then form a correct judgment of the 
usefulness of the beloved man, whose death we are called 
to lament, you must consider the value of that cause, which 
was so near his heart, and for the promotion of which he 
exhausted the best energies of his nature. 

But is it necessary for me, in this age of Christian 
knowledge and Christian effort, to produce arguments to 
prove the importance and excellence of the Missionary 
cause ? Are there any among us, who will award to our 
departed brother the honour of sincere and pious endeav- 
ours, but doubt the soundness of his judgment in directing 
them to the accomplishment of such an end ? Are there 
any, who can witness the zeal, the liberality, the sacrifices 
and prayers, which are employed for the promotion of the 
Missionary cause, and say, they are all employed in a use- 
less or doubtful enterprise — the cause they are designed to 
promote is not worthy of such exertions — and the man 
who devotes his life to that cause, though he may deserve 
our candour for his honesty, and our respect for his talents. 



19 

and our love for the goodness of his heart, must have our 
compassion for his weakness ? — Gladly would I remove 
the doubts and misapprehensions of any who view the 
cause of missions in such a light. And gladly would I re- 
move the lukewarmness, and excite the active zeal of 
others, who have better views. 

Will you then estimate the importance of the Mis- 
sionary cause, from its grand design ? What is that design, 
but the salvation of sinners perishing in the darkness of pa- 
ganism? Now are not the soul- of men in heathen lands 
as immortal as ours? And is not their immortality stamped 
with as great worth, as ours ? If then we deem it impor- 
tant that our souls should be saved, and our immortal exist- 
ence be made happy ; is it not equally important that those, 
who are bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh in pagan 
countries, should obtain the same blessings? Has not all 
Christendom pronounced that to be an excellent precept, 
which requires us to love our neighbours as ourselves ? And 
can any one, who is guided by this rule, and who has any 
proper regard to his own eternal happiness, think lightly 
of the eternal happiness of any fellow-creatures ? But if 
the salvation of the heathen is so important ; no man can 
question the importance of those efforts, which are directed 
to the single purpose of furnishing them with the means ot 
salvation, and of making them heirs of all its blessings. — If, 
indeed, the human race were in such a moral condition, as 
the lax theology of the day represents ; if men had no de- 
pravity to be subdued by that power of the Holy Spirit; 



20 

which attends the preaching of the gospel ; if they had no 
sins to be pardoned and no pollution to be washed away by 
atoning blood ; and if those, who have never known the 
name of Jesus, had as good a prospect of heaven, as any 
in Christian lands ; we might quiet all our anxieties respect- 
ing the heathen, and indulge feelings of sincere benevolence 
towards them, without any efforts for their conversion. 
And I am very willing to concede, that for those, who deny 
what we believe to be the doctrines of revelation in regard 
to the character and prospects of man, it is every way 
consistent to think the Missionary cause of no value, and 
to look with the coldest indifference on all that is done to 
convert the heathen world. But if all men are " by na- 
ture children of wrath ;" and if there is no other name 
under heaven whereby they can be saved, but the name 
of Jesus ; and if the preaching of the gospel is the grand, 
appointed means of bringing men to enjoy that salvation ; 
then it is utterly impossible to separate the cause of benev- 
olence from the cause of missions ; and no friend of man 
can be content, without making every possible exertion to 
send the gospel to all nations. Did the Son of God deem 
it necessary to come down from heaven, and suffer and 
die, to procure salvation for sinners ? And can we deem it 
of no consequence that they should be made acquainted 
with that salvation ? If Christianity is of any value to ws, — 
if it has done us any good ; it is certainly of as great value 
to the heathen, and may do as much good to them. Say, 
was Christianity any blessing to those who were converted 
by the labours of the Jipostks? Was it any blessing to 



21 

our forefathers in Europe, who, in former ages, were turn* 
ed from the basest idolatry, and made members of Christ's 
kingdom ? — Think of the difference between the inhabi- 
tants of New England, and the people of those countries 
where pagan ignorance prevails. To what is all this dif- 
ference owing, but to the Christian religion ? And must not 
those labours be important, which are one day to secure 
to idolatrous nations all that is precious in our holy religion, 
and to render them as enlightened, as pious, as happy, as 
the best Christians here? Just imagine all the millions of 
Asia, Africa, and America, who are now in a state of 
heathenism, actually converted, formed into Christian 
churches, engaged publicly and privately in worshipping 
God, observing all the commands and ordinances of the 
gospel, and living as examples of righteousness, and peace, 
and joy in the Holy Ghost. See parents, once bowing 
down to dumb idols, and practising the most degrading 
vices, now walking before their households in uprightness 
of heart, and bringing up their children in the nurture and 
admonition of the Lord. Sec children listening, with 
weeping tenderness, to the voice of Christian instruction. 
See angels rejoicing over sinners brought to repentance. 
Sec believers abounding in good works ; in the depth of 
affliction, submitting to God ; in death, rejoicing in hope of 
eternal glory. Would not such a state be infinitely better, 
than their present state of stupid idolatry, and of brutal 
ignorance and wretchedness ? — The friends of the Mission- 
ary cause are attempting to accomplish all this ; and to 
accomplish it, not for one generation, but for all genera- 



22 

tions, to the end of time. Where is the man, that can 
question the excellence of this attempt ? And who, that 
loves his fellow-creatures, can refrain from rejoicing in the 
most distant hope, that the attempt will be successful ? — 
If there is any thing absolutely to forbid such a hope, then 
I grant, that the attempts of Christians to convert the 
world, though prompted by benevolence, would lose their 
value, and be stamped with folly. But, my brethren, are 
we forbidden to indulge this hope ? Is the conversion of 
the heathen w T orld impracticable ? Has not God Almighty 
power enough to convert them ? Has he not benevolence 
enough ? Are not the provisions of the gospel sufficiently 
large and abundant ? Is not the way that is opened to 
heaven sufficiently broad ? Have not many actually been 
converted, who were once as far from righteousness, as 
they ? We indeed believe that men in heathen lands are 
much more depraved and degraded, and much more disin- 
clined to embrace the gospel, than the opposers of mis- 
sions believe them to be. We see more and mightier ob- 
stacles, than they do, to the success of the Missionary 
cause. But We find no reason for despair. Were the 
difficulties in the w 7 ay of Christianizing the heathen, 
arising from the circumstances of heathen society, from 
lieathen customs and manners, from the inveteracy of 
heathen superstitions, and from that carnal mind which is 
every-where enmity against God; — were the difficulties 
arising from these sources far greater than they are ; we 
should still have confident hopes of success ; hopes resting, 
not on the natural tendencies of the heart, nor on the effi- 



23 



cacy of human persuasion or power to counteract those 
tendencies ; but on the promise of God, — on the power 
and faithfulness of God, — on that divine grace, which 
shows its peculiar excellence, by superabounding where 
sin hath abounded. Brethren, the conversion of the 
world, though impossible for man, is an easy work for 
God. The conversion of the heathen is as easy, as the 
conversion of our ancestors was, or as our own conver- 
sion. It was as great an effort of divine power and divine 
love to save any of us, as it would be to save stupid idola- 
ters in the pagan world. And as God is the common Fa- 
ther of men, and is no respecter of persons; why should 
we suppose he will confine his special favours to a small 
portion of our race ? Why should we form such an opin- 
ion of that Being who made the world, and whose tender 
mercies are over all his works, as to think, that he is not 
H willing to exert his power in behalf of the heathen, as in 
our behalf; or that he will not be as ready to prosper our 
endeavours to convert sinners in heathen lands, as in our 
iwn country ? 

But I cannot dwell on this subject. Nor is it neccssa- 
that I should. For it seems really impossible that any 
lan, who considers the Christian religion a blessing, and who 
las imbibed the least degree of its benevolent spirit, should 
not desire its universal diffusion, or that he should not re- 
joice in the various exertions now made to bring the whole 
world under its influence. Objections against the mission- 
ary cause are consistent enough from the mouths of Der?t* 



24 

and Atheists ; but for Christians to make them, is a shock- 
ing absurdity. It is just as though they should say, we 
have received the christian religion — we have been en- 
lightened by its heavenly doctrines, purified by its influ- 
ence, and in a thousand ways have experienced its bless- 
ings. And now, we are willing it should stop where it 
is, being quite indifferent whether its blessings, so impor- 
tant to ws, are ever communicated to the hundreds of mil- 
lions who are perishing without it. — But I cannot consent 
to answer objections against the missionary cause from 
those, who call themselves Christians. It is too late in 
the day. Henceforth, if any man would urge such objec- 
tions, let him have the honesty and truth first to avow 
himself an infidel. 

Here then, brethren, we have a cause of the highest 
conceivable moment. Other enterprises for the welfare 
of man are benevolent and useful. We honour them all. 
"We wish them a growing and abundant success. But the 
.Missionary cause is superior to all others. It is more be- 
nevolent, more exalted, more glorious. It reaches to all 
the human family. It aims at nothing less, than to com- 
municate the blessings of the everlasting gospel through 
the whole extent of the earth's population. And notwith- 
standing all the difficulties which stand in its way, and 
which are so apt to discourage our faint hearts, it has a 
certain prospect of success. The undertaking, in which 
the friends of Missions are now engaged, is one, upon which 
future generations will look back, as we do upon the la- 



25 

bours of the apostles, and of succeeding Missionaries, in 
christianizing particular parts of the world. They will 
look back, and bless God, that he put it into the hearts 
of his people at this day, to begin the work of love. 
They will look back, and bless God for its accomplish- 
ment. And when the converted myriads of Bombay, of 
Ceylon, of Jerusalem and Asia Minor, of the Sandwich 
Islands, and the wilderness of America shall call to mind 
the commencement of those efforts in this country, which 
brought them to the knowledge of the truth, they will re- 
member our dear, lamented Worcester, and will associate 
his beloved name with all that Avas done for their salva- 
tion. In the history of the Christian church, they will, 
from generation to generation, read the history of our hon- 
oured Secretary, the principal agent in forming our various 
Missionary establishments abroad, and in all the efforts 
made by Christians in America for their support. And 
those who read his history in future ages, will form a far 
juster estimate, than we can, of the importance of the of- 
fice which he filled, and of the cause which he served. 

My hearers will not, I hope, charge me with a need- 
less digression in what I have said, when they consider that 
the character of the beloved man, who has been taken 
from us, was in reality identified with the Missionary cause. 
If the Missionary cause is insignificant ; so must we coi> 
sider the man, who made an offering of himself for its ad- 
vancement. But if that cause is great and excellent, — if 
it is, in truth, the cause of human salvation, the cause of 
4 



26 

infinite love ; then the character of the man, who had so 
close a relation to it, and so distinguished an influence in 
promoting it, must have derived from that relation and 
that influence, a corresponding greatness and excellence ; 
and the office which was assigned him, as agent for so glo- 
rious a cause, must have been, in the highest degree, ele- 
vated and responsible. 

But I should be far from doing justice to the charac- 
ter of our Corresponding Secretary, if 1 should pass over, 
with no more particular attention, the manner in which he 
executed the functions of his office. In every office which 
he previously sustained, he so united talent and fidelity, as 
to gain an honourable place in the public esteem. But in 
this last office, he appeared before the world with a char- 
acter of more finished excellence. In this last office, all 
his talents and acquisitions, as a scholar and a minister, and 
all his virtues as a Christian, combined their influence to 
produce one grand result. And permit me to say, that 
when we look at his agency in this great concern, we see 
what God intended by the peculiarities of his character. 
Here those peculiarities were all turned to account. They 
conspired with the other attributes of his mind to produce 
in him such a remarkable fitness for his work, that no one 
was left to doubt for what God designed him. Our be- 
loved Secretary was as manifestly in his proper place in 
the kingdom of Christ, as the hand or the head is in its 
proper place in the natural body. In the station which 
he finally held, he exhibited a greater symmetry, and a 



27 

brighter and stronger expressiveness in the features of his 
character, than ever before. And now, you might as well 
think of doing justice to the character of Moses, without 
describing his agency in delivering the children of Israel 
from Egypt and leading them through the wilderness, or 
of Paul, without exhibiting him as the Apostle of the Gen- 
tiles, as to the character of Dr Worcester, without de- 
scribing him in this highest and most arduous sphere of his 
labours. 

The manner in which lie filled this office, you may 
learn from tacts. Learn it from those Reports of the 
Board which he wrote, especially the two last ; which, I 
will venture to say, would not sutfer by comparison with 
any performances of the kind, ever published in America, 
or in Europe. Learn it from his correspondence with the 
Iflknomrii B, -hould that interesting correspondence ever be 
made public. Learn it from the character of our various 
Missionary establishments in different parts of the world. 
The whole plan of these establishments, the principles on 
which they arc conducted, and the success which has at- 
tended them, are before the public. And I think it im- 
possible that any competent judge should not perceive the 
superior wisdom which they display. They evidently 
make an advance, in some important respects, upon pre- 
ceding establishments. They are all calculated for per- 
manent operation, and for permanent and increasing utility. 
They are conducted so manifestly according to the dic- 
tates of common sense, and of sober. Christian judgment, 



28 

that they have already done much towards silencing the ob- 
jections of opposers, and will, I am confident, soon unite all 
candid, pious men in the cause of Missions. — Learn too the 
manner in which our brother filled his office, from the influx 
ence he had with the community, and the success which 
uniformly attended his earnest appeals to them, in behalf 
of the funds of the society. The American people are a 
people of many eyes and ears, and, when possessed of suf- 
ficient evidence, are not prone to form an incorrect judg- 
ment. They will not continue to invest a man with the 
highest degree of influence over them, unless his conduct 
entitles him to entire confidence. This is specially true in 
regard to such a subject as this. Had there been any de- 
fect of the requisite talents in the Secretary, or had there 
been any thing exceptionable, or even suspicious, in his 
public or private conduct; the treatment he would have 
had from the community would have been very different 
from what he uniformly received. The various plans of 
Missionary operation, adopted by the Prudential Commit- 
tee, have repeatedly involved the Board in expenses, far 
beyond their resources. Had the good people of our 
country suspected any want of wisdom in those expensive 
plans, or in him who had a principal agency in concerting 
them ; they would not, at his solicitation, have so prompt- 
ly increased their contributions, and so generously relieved 
from embarrassment the operations of the Board. 

The evidences of the distinguished character of our 
Secretary, which I have now suggested, are before the 



29 

public. But there are other evidences, and those of a 
most interesting nature, which have necessarily been con- 
cealed from the. public eye ; I mean the steady, long-con- 
tinued intenseness of his mental labours in private, and the 
part sustained by him in the deliberations of the American 
Board, and especially of the Prudential Committee. Could 
the friends of our Missionary exertions have seen him in 
those deliberations, and those intense labours of mind, thev 
would have seen him in his strength ; and would have 
learned something of the secret spring of those systematic, 
public movements, by which the American Board and 
American Christians have been aiming to enlighten and 
save the heathen. 

It was one of the peculiar excellencies of Dr Wor- 
cester, as agent for such a cause, that he had the habit of 
investigating a subject more patiently and thoroughly, and, in 
all difficult cases, of suspending his judgment longer, than 
most other men. His mind was not indeed distinguished 
for that rapidity of thought, which might have helped him 
to decide and act with great promptness, as well as pro- 
priety, in ordinary concerns, but which, in business of great 
weight and difficulty, might have disqualified him for de- 
ciding or acting at all. He had the superior advantage of 
that slower and more exact movement of thought, of that 
longer reach of intellect, and that more particular and more 
consummate deliberation, which qualified him to look through 
all the relations of a great and complicated subject ; to 
foresee the distant results of measures under consideration; 



30 

to foresee dangers, and by seasonable precaution to avoid 
them ; and to carry forward a systematic plan, involving 
the greatest interests of the world, to a gradual, but sure 
accomplishment. He was the man, who, in these vast 
concerns, had nothing that savoured of presumption; no- 
thing precipitate ; nothing showy, visionary, or extrava- 
gant; and nothing of transient utility. He took time to 
form his judgment; but when formed, it seldom needed 
reconsideration. I might say of him, what could be said 
of few men living, that such was the fairness and thor- 
oughness of his investigations, and the judiciousness of his 
decisions, that it was scarcely necessary to inquire into the 
expediency or feasibility of any measure, which he delibe- 
rately recommended* 

It must be considered as a special token of divine fa- 
vour, that a man of such a character was raised up at a 
time, when exertions so benevolent and extensive were to 
be made, and that he was permitted of heaven to devote 
himself so long to the concerns of our Foreign Missions. 
Gladly would I increase the public esteem and affection 
which generally fall to the lot of men, who become public 
agents in business so weighty and complicated. The cares, 

* To guard against too exclusive a sense of the above remarks, 
I must be permitted here to express the same confidence in the other 
principal agent of the American Board, who was so constantly and 
intimately associated with the Corresponding Secretary, and whose 
talents, devotion to public duty, and indefatigable labours, entitle 
him to the respect, affection and gratitude of all who love the cause 
of Christ. 



31 

and labours, and anxieties, to which they are incessantly 
exposed, would, if fully known, excite more general sym- 
pathy. Without supposing them exempt from the mistakes 
and imperfections, always incident to good men, I am fully 
persuaded that, on the principles of human nature, a sta- 
tion which is so responsible, and which so far identifies 
their reputation and comfort with the spread of the Chris- 
tian religion, removes them to the greatest distance from 
temptations to self-interest ; affords the strongest security 
to the uprightness of their conduct, and gives them no 
ordinary claim to public confidence. 

It was one of the most valuable qualifications of Dr 
Worcester, and one of the most striking proofs of his 
greatness, that difficulties, however various and unexpected, 
never disconcerted him ; opposition and danger never pro- 
duced perturbation. He could experience many a tempo- 
rary discomfiture, without being either subdued, or dis- 
couraged. In those emergencies, which agitate and over- 
whelm men of ordinary minds, he collected new strength : 
his feelings rose to higher animation, and his understanding 
to mightier efforts. In many cases which occurred in 
the prosecution of his arduous business, he could see no 
present means of relief. Difficulties multiplied, and put 
on an appalling aspect. But in Iiim, there was no sink- 
ing, no trembling. The ultimate success of the under- 
taking was inseparably connected in his mind, with the 
faithfulness and almighty agency of Jehovah. He had 
confidence in God, and expected great things to be done 



32 



in this age of wonders. At times his way seemed to 
be hedged up with difficulties. But he had no doubt the 
difficulties would all be cleared away. Now, it was a 
night of thick darkness. But he expected the morning 
would come with its cheering light. In the greatest 
straits, he was so entirely a stranger to that despondency 
which enervates the mind, that he was all the while spon- 
taneously putting himself into a state of preparation for 
more powerful action. When others were disheartened, 
then was the time for him to go forward. Under every 
pressure, he acquired greater decision of purpose, and 
more intense ardour of feeling in favour of his object, and 
became more fruitful in arguments to prove its excellence, 
and in expedients to secure its accomplishment. 

I shall mention one more property which belonged to 
the character of our departed brother ; which is, that in, 
regard to the various objects of christian benevolence, his 
mind was well balanced, and his zeal well proportioned. I 
do not mean, that he gave such a portion of his own 
thoughts and feelings and labours to each benevolent ob- 
ject, as agreed exactly with its comparative importance. 
No intelligent being, who is not infinite, can ever do this. 
But I mean, that his judgment was not so biassed by the 
business which engrossed his attention, that he overlooked 
the importance of the business in which other good men 
were engaged. He guarded in a good measure against 
the fault, to which every man in a public station is liable, 
namely, that of looking so earnestly at his own particular 



33 

object, as to lose sight of others. Although, as Corres- 
ponding Secretary, he was occupied constantly, and for so 
long a time, with the labours of an office more public in 
its nature, and more extensive in its design ; he never 
ceased to feel the importance, or to love the duties of the 
pastoral office. His zeal for the Missionary cause did not 
lead him to undervalue the great and successful exertions 
of the present day, to promote other benevolent objects. 
Nor did his zeal for Foreign Missions prevent his feeling 
a deep interest in Missionary efforts for the benefit of our 
own country. It was obvious to him, and it was a senti- 
ment, which he took great pleasure in cherishing and ex- 
pressing, that the various objects, Avhich Christians are now 
labouring to promote, are, in the most important respects, 
one, and are all entitled to a far more liberal and efficient 
patronage, than they have ever yet obtained. 

I have now, I trust, faithfully, though not with the 
skill I could have wished, portrayed the leading features of 
Dr Worcester's public character. I have represented 
him as a man of distinguished eminence in the church. 
But pause here, brethren, just long enough to consider 
again, summarily, in what his distinction mainly consisted. 
He had nothing of that brilliancy of genius or of eloquence, 
and nothing of that enchanting popularity of manners, 
which gains rapturous admiration and loud applauses from 
the multitude. Part of his distinction consisted in his great 
distance from all this. He indeed had a powerful and 
well cultivated mind, and a taste of no ordinary refinement. 



34 

But if you look attentively at the man, you will see that 
his distinction consisted in that which worldly ambition 
would never covet. It consisted not in the emoluments, 
or the splendours, or the honours of his place. No. It 
consisted in his filling an office of vast and eternal conse- 
quence ; an office involving labours, and burdens, and anx- 
ieties, and sufferings, which are insupportable to human 
strength, and which must render any man, who sustains 
them, an object of public compassion, rather than of envy. 
It consisted in his pursuing the great business of that office 
with intensity of thought; with simplicity of aim; with 
inextinguishable zeal ; with the consideration and prudence, 
which experience inculcates ; and with the perseverance 
and activity of a man, who knows the greatness and good- 
ness of his undertaking, and who, relying not on the re- 
sources of his own mind, but on the help of God, and on 
the uncontrollable movements of his providence, resolves 
on its perfect execution. It consisted, in short, in his con- 
secrating himself and all that he had to a cause, superla- 
tively excellent, and in his studying, and labouring, and suf- 
fering so much, and, through the divine blessing, so success- 
fully, for its advancement. Thus you see that the distin- 
guished excellence of his character was such, that we must 
have something better than ambition, to aspire after it, and 
yet something worse than envy itself, not to do it reverence. 

But we must come to the closing scene of that life, 
which was so full of great and useful actions. Unremitted 
labour had created or increased various bodily infirmities. 



35 

Those infirmities had for some time been assuming a more 
and more alarming aspect. The consent of our friend to 
visit the establishments at Brainerd and Elliot was in part 
produced by his paternal solicitude for the Missionary 
cause in those places, and in part by a desire to repair 
that constitution, which his solicitude and his long-continued 
efforts for the Missionary cause had almost undermined. 
But that consent was not yielded without much anxious 
and devout consideration, and the best counsel of physi- 
cians and friends. As an arrangement of divine provi- 
dence, it may seem full of mystery, that he should be re- 
moved far away from his dear wife and children, from his 
pastoral charge, from his brethren, and friends, and native 
region, to die in the wilderness. What could have appear- 
ed more desirable to us, than that, in his last sickness, his 
pains should be alleviated and his heart comforted, by the 
tender assiduities of his own beloved family. They would 
have craved the opportunity of thus ministering to him in 
his sufferings, and of hearing from his dying lips his last 
paternal counsels, as one of the most precious blessings, 
ever to be enjoyed on earth. And what could have ap- 
peared to be more desirable, or to promise more good to 
the Missionary cause, than for his brethren and fellow-la- 
bourers to have some seasons of free consultation with him 
in his last days, and to be made acquainted with the views 
and emotions, which must have been produced in a mind, 
so mature and elevated as his, by the visible approach of 
death, and the dawn of eternal day. But the sovereign 
appointment of God was, that he should go far hence, to 



36 

sicken and die. The pains he took to learn the will of 
God respecting his absence, and the considerations, which 
finally convinced his hesitating judgment of the expediency 
of the voyage, stated particularly in a letter to the Treas- 
urer, must have given entire satisfaction to the public. So 
must his subsequent reflections, as exhibited in the same 
letter. — " It has been," he says, " no slight satisfaction to 
my mind, that I came hither in obedience to God's direc- 
tion, and not, as I would humbly trust, without some de- 
gree of filial submission, and confidence, and hope. What 
the end is to be, is not yet to be read. It may be the 
final exit from all earthly scenes, and the dropping of 
this slender tabernacle, though far away from its kindred 
dust, yet in the place, whether in the sea, or upon the 
land, appointed by sovereign goodness for its rest till the 
rising day. — It may be the accomplishment of something 
for life and immortality to the wanderers of the wilder- 
ness, or dwellers in the dark places of the earth, by an 

instrumentality so feeble, as to make it manifest that 

the excellency of the power must have been of God." — 
At the age of fifty, with a family requiring a father's as 
well as a mother's care, — a people holding his heart 
with a thousand ties, — a study, his loved retreat, ' Fast 
by the oracles of God,' — responsibilities the most weigh- 
ty, and objects of attention and action for which only he 
would live and labour, — one could not leave home for an 
absence so long, and with prospects so precarious, with- 
out many reluctances and regrets, and thoughts of seri- 
ous import, and movements of the inmost heart" — " But 



37 

" what is time, or place, or outward condition ? — God is at 
" all times, and in all places the same ; and to feel that we 
" are in him and he in us, is enough for happiness. To 
" feel that we are where he would have us be, and doing 
" what he would have us do, is all that for ourselves we 
" should desire." 

In the following quotation from the same letter, he 
expresses his mature, unwavering judgment as to the cause 
of Missions. — " One thing is settled in my mind ; and that 
ifc is a full and delightful conviction, that the cause of Mis- 
" sions has never held too high a place in my estimation, or 
v engaged too large a share of my attention. — It transcends. 
" immeasurably transcends the highest estimation of every 
~ created mind. And what is the sacrifice of health, what 
* the sacrifice of life, to such a cause ? Be the event w hat 
" it may, — recovered health, or early death, — I never can 
" regret what I have done in this work ; — but only that 
" I have done so little, and with a heart so torpid." 

It would be highly interesting, were not my time ex- 
hausted, to trace the progress of our beloved brother, 
amid weariness, and infirmity, and pain, and yet amid many 
benevolent exertions, from New Orleans to our Indian es- 
tablishments. The heart of Jacob was not more fondly 
set on going down to Egypt and seeing Joseph before he 
died, than his heart was, on visiting those Missionary sta- 
tions. At a little distance from Elliot, he wrote the fol- 
lowing apostolic letter to the Missionaries at that place ; 
i letter which most strikingly shows you the sacred pas- 



38 

sion which possessed and ruled his heart. He says, — " In 
" various scenes and changes ; the perils of the sea and per- 
" ils of the wilderness ; in much weakness, weariness, and 
" painfulness, my heart has been cheered with the anticipa- 
" tion of being refreshed at Elliot. At present however, it 
" seems to be the will of our ever to be adored Lord and 
" Master, that the anticipation, so fondly entertained, should 
" not be realized. I bow to his sovereign pleasure, always 
" good, — infinitely good. Still my heart melts with longing, 
" with tenderness towards that consecrated spot— towards all 
" the members of the Missionary family, both those whom I 
" have seen, and those whom I have not seen ; and towards 
" the dear children of the forest, the objects of benevolent 
" instruction and labour and care. May the God and Fa- 
" ther of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and 
" the God of all grace, bring you nearer and nearer to him- 
" self, and keep you more entirely in his love, — grant you 
" abundant supports and consolations— make you faithful un- 
" to death. May he bless the school, and prosper the 
" work in the nation, and make the wilderness and solitary 
" place to be glad for you.— And when our labours and trials 
" on earth shall be finished, in his infinite mercy, may we 
" meet in his presence above, and rejoice in his glory for- 
" ever." 

When he arrived at Brainerd, May 25, he was ex- 
tremely feeble, and as it seems, looked upon the time of 
his departure as near. " God," he said, " is very gracious. 
" He has sustained me, as it were by miracle, thus far, and 



39 

" granted me one great desire of my heart, in bringing me 
u to Brainerd. And if it be agreeable to his holy purposes, 
" that I should leave my poor remains here, his will be 
" done." He was able to attend to no business, and to 
speak but little. In few words he addressed the mem- 
bers of the church, and some of the congregation. After 
that, though much exhausted, he expressed a particular 
desire that the children of the school, according to their 
request, should come in. " I want," — he said, feebly, and 
with tears, — " I want to see all my dear children, and to 
take them by the hand." They were then called in, and 
he took each of them by the hand, as they passed by his 
dying bed. Having all passed round in procession, they 
stood and sung a hymn. He was affected to tears most 
of the time. He then, in the most affectionate manner, 

addressed them, which in return melted them to tears 

There, on the seventh of 

June in the morning, — at that consecrated spot in the wil- 
derness, dearer far to him, than any city or mansion on 
earth, this servant of the church, worn out with fatigue, 
and exhausted with sickness, lifted up his eyes towards 
heaven, and with a delightful smile upon his countenance, 
fell asleep in Jesus. 

The grief of the Missionary family on this occasion, 
you shall learn from their own language. When beginning 
to write their Journal, the day on which their beloved 
counsellor and father died, they thus describe the over- 
whelming sorrow of their hearts. — " With reluctance we 



40 



" enter on the events of this day. Our thoughts recoil, 
" Our pen stops. — Tears darken our eyes. — We seek 
" where to weep. We enter into our closets and weep 
" there. We resolve to be men, and not children. We 
" resume the task. Our weakened hands refuse to per- 
" form their office. — We look at each other, and say, who 
" shall bear the doleful tidings ? A solemn silence casts a 
" still darker shade over the gloomy scene. Eveiy heart 
" is faint ; every head is sick ; every hand is weak." 

But the Missionary family at Brainerd are not alone in 
their grief. There is a general mourning. And this mourn- 
ing will spread through various and distant parts of the 
world, as soon as the tidings of Dr Worcester's death shall 
be heard. Our Missionaries in the East, and in the West 
loved him and confided in him, as a father, by whose ma- 
ture wisdom and faithful friendship they were guided and 
cheered in all their labours. How will their hearts bleed, 
when they hear that this beloved, honoured friend is no 
more ! — I might speak of the sorrow of his church and 
society ; of the Prudential Committee and the American 
Board ; of our Theological Seminary, in which he had 
been recently called to the office of a Visitor ; of the 
Massachusetts Missionary Society, and the American Edu- 
cation Society, and of other religious and charitable Socie- 
ties with which he was connected; of the churches and 
ministers of Christ ; of all the friends of Missions, and all 
the friends of man. 



41 

But it becomes us, brethren, to restrain our feelings, 
and seriously to inquire, in what manner we should bear 
this stroke of divine providence, and what use we should 
make of it. 

Here let us bless the God of all grace, that he has 
prepared a heaven of glory and blessedness for his faithful 
servants. O how sweet the rest of heaven, after a wea- 
risome journey through this wilderness. How blessed to 
be there rid of all imperfections and sins. Imperfections 
and sins our dear brother certainly had, or he could not 
have been human. He confessed them, and mourned for 
them, and looked to the blood of atonement for forgive- 
ness, or he could not have been a Christian. But from 
his life and death, we have the best reason to think that 
he now sees his Saviour face to face, and will serve him 
with perfect love, and enjoy him with perfect blessedness 
forever. 

We ought, brethren, to bless God for raising up a 
man of so distinguished a character, and making him the 
instrument of so much good to the church. That our de- 
ceased brother was thus fitted for the important places he 
occupied ; that he was continued so long, and enabled to 
make such efforts for the salvation of men, is to be attrib- 
uted to infinite goodness. 

We ought, with reverence and submission, to notice 
the hand of God in the place and circumstances of his death 
6 



42 

The progress of the divine dispensations may soon show, 
and undoubtedly the light of eternity will show, that im- 
portant ends, and ends very near his heart, were answered 
by his dying at a Missionary station. It seems as though 
God meant in this affair, to set aside the wishes of his 
relatives, his people, and his fellow labourers here, for the 
sake of a great public good. — The man, who has here 
acted the most conspicuous part in the Missionary cause, 
and who has secured the strongest, tenderest attachment 
of the Christian community, is removed from his family 
and friends, and from the societies and individuals with 
whom he was so closely united in his various labours, and 
is carried away, by the divine hand, to a spot in the wil- 
derness, — a spot on which have centered so many chari- 
ties, and labours, and prayers. He is carried to the place 
where our beloved Kingsbury, with so much ability and 
success, began to collect and teach the Indian children. 
Though a sick and dying man, he has this great desire of 
his heart, — to see the consecrated place ; to see the dear 
Missionary family; to see and embrace the children of 
the forest, now the children of a Christian school ; and in 
words faint and few, to give his last counsel, his dying ben- 
ediction. — There he is, in the most tender and interesting 
moments of his whole life. There he commits his soul to 
his God and Saviour. There his body lies in the dust. 
There is his grave; and there will his grave-stone be 
erected. — And now, brethren, the happy consequence will 
be, that all the esteem and love, which Christians in A- 
merica have for his character, all their gratitude for his 






43 

services, all their sympathy for his sufferings, and all their 
grief at his death, will be associated with that Missionary 
establishment, and with the Missionary cause. The recol- 
lection that a man so great, and wise, and good, went to die 
on Missionary ground, must excite a new interest in the 
public mind. It will plead the cause of Missions with 
more effect, than the eloquence of a Whitefield. The 
place where Dr Worcester died, and where he sleeps in 
the grave, will be indeed a consecrated place. And who 
can ever go to that consecrated place, without emotions of 
mingled veneration and love and tenderness, at the remem- 
brance of the devoted minister of Christ, who came there 
to die. But in the minds of Christians, that place will be 
closely united with the cause which is there to be pro- 
moted. And so that precious cause will hereafter stand 
out to public view, as having the nearest connexion with 
all that was great and useful in the life, and all that was 
solemn and peaceful in the death of this beloved servant 
of God. To a cause endeared by so many tender and 
interesting associations, its friends will hereafter contribute 
with more liberality, and more pleasure. And a cause, 
recommended by such visible proofs of its magnitude and 
excellence, will conciliate the cordial attachment of many, 
by whom it has heretofore been disregarded. 



And now let me say to you, my hearers, — and would 
God 1 could say it to Christians in every part of the land, 
— if you wish, by some suitable mark, to express the af- 
fectionate veneration, which you feel for the character of 



44 

this servant of Christ; promote the cause which he loved. 
Promote it by jour substance, your labours, and your 
prayers. This will be a far better token of respect for 
his memory, than applauses or tears. 

If any of you, brethren, aspire to be great and useful 
like our departed brother; then copy that, in which his 
greatness and usefulness consisted. Be devoted to the 
cause of Christ. Let that cause be so near your heart ; 
let your affections, and desires, and pursuits so entirely 
centre in it, that it may, in some humble measure, be your 
cause, as it is Chris? s cause. If you have Christian be- 
nevoknee, and wish to increase it ; give it proper cultiva- 
tion. Do not set this celestial plant in a dark, cold, nar- 
row place, where it will droop and die ; but bring it forth 
to open day, and give it room to expand, and let the sun 
warm it, and the rains of heaven fall upon it ; and then it 
will grow, and become a great tree, and bear abundant 
fruit, which shall be for the healing of the nations. 

But, Oh ! my brethren, as I am about to close, the 
sorrowful theme returns. — I look around me in this sacred 
place, where our brother so long ministered in holy things, 
and where I was so often permitted of God to take part 
in his ministrations ; — I look into his house, where I have 
so many times enjoyed his edifying discourse, and united 
with him in family worship ; — I look to those societies and 
those meetings for business, where his presence was deem- 
ed so important; — I look to the Theological Seminary, 



45 

which hoped long to enjoy his visits ; — I look here, and 
there, — and, for a moment lost in recollection, I ask, where 
is our dear brother ? — But Oh ! the painful thought, — he 
sleeps in death ; — we shall sec his face no more. 

But shall we faint under this heavy stroke ? Shall his 
companions in labour — shall the friends of Missions — shall 
those who have gone to the heathen, be disheartened by 
this visitation, and say, with sinking discouragement, what 
can we do? — "Hast thou not known, hast thou not heard, 
" that the everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the 
" ends of the earth faintcth not, neither is weary ? There 
" is no searching of his understanding. He giveth power 
" to the faint, and to them that have no might, he increas- 
" eth strength/' — Did not the unchangeable God create 
our departed brother, and furnish him for his work ? Is 
the power of God diminished ? Is his goodness di- 
minished ? Is not he as watchful a l'ricnd, as faith- 
ful a Guardian of the Missionary cause, as he ever has 
been? Every instance in which he raises up a great and 
useful man to bless his church, is a new evidence of 
his inexhaustible goodness, and of his unalterable purpose to 
carry forward the work of love, till all flesh shall be sav- 
)d. God will repeat — he will multiply these evidences of 
lis goodness. So our beloved brother felt in the last 
lours of his life. He said, " Though I am taken away 
from this delightful labour, the Lord lives, and will raise 

up other instruments to carry on his work." Yes, let 

every Christian say, " the Lord lives, and blessed be my 



46 



rock." He will not forget his servants, who are labouring 
and suffering for him, either in Christian or pagan lands. 
To any of us, who are called to sustain offices of high mo- 
ment, and to perform difficult and wearisome duties, espe- 
cially to those, whose burden of care and labour is aug- 
mented by this afflictive visitation, he will not refuse to 
give assistance and support. How gracious and cheering 
his promise, " as thy day is, so shall thy strength be." 
Additional helpers that may be needed in our great 
Christian enterprises, he will supply; and he will supply 
them in season. In that day of glory to the church, 
Avhich is drawing near, God will raise up men, who will 
far outshine all who have gone before. O could you 
see in clear prospect, what will quickly be seen as a pres- 
ent reality, how would your hearts leap for joy. — Friends 
of Zion, — friends of the Missionary cause, lift up your 
heads, for Jesus lives. Jesus, infinitely greater than all 
human agents, — Jesus, the Saviour of the world, lives and 
reigns forever. Amen. 






SERMON, 1/ 

v 



DELITEIIED BEFORE 



OTOX UDITTiaiTTTDlT 



OF THE 



CONGREGATIONAL MINISTERS 

IN 

MASSACHUSETTS, 

AT THEIR 

r\L MEETING IH BO8T0 

\1 A^ SQ, 1821. 



|{\ ELIJAH PARISH, D. D, 



CAMBRIDGE: 

PRINTED BY MILLIARD AND MLTCALF. 

:i. 



SERMON, 



LUKE ii. 14. 

ON EARTH, PEACK J GOOD WILL TOWARDS MEN'. 

Jesus Christ is the Prince of peace, the light of the 
world, the Savior of man. Other benefactors have been use- 
ful. They have civilized savage tribes; ihey have extended 
science and commerce; and established empires. They have 
founded churches, banished idols from their temples, and ex- 
tinguished the fire on the altars of human sacrifice. But these 
benevolent efforts are limited, partial, and transient in their ef- 
fects. While one side of the globe enjoys the sunshine of 
science and civilization, the other may he wrapped in dark- 
ness and barbarism. Where are the empires, which once 
promised to be as lasting, as their mountains ? 

The pacific reign of Jesus Christ will be as extensive, as the 
world, and continue as long, as the sun and moon shall en- 
dure. Long ages before the advent of the Messiah, patriarchs 
rejoiced in his day. Prophets and poets foretold, that the 
iron age of crimes and tears was parsing away, that the gol- 
den era was advancing, when peace would descend from 
heaven, the lion sport with the lamb, and the child play with 
the serpent. 

Sages admonished their disciples, to wait the coming of a 
superior teacher. Historians announced his expected ap- 
proach. Angels came down from the throne of God, with the 
new T s of his birth. The shepherds heard the music of their 
song, " Peace on earth, and good will towards men." 

Doctrine : It is the design of God, by the gospel of Christ. 
to establish lasting peace through the world. 



I. I presume, that God determines to establish universal 
peace ; because he has promised, that the holiness of the 
gospel shall be universal. 

" All flesh shall come and worship before me, saith the 
Lord." " The Lord shall be king over all the earth." " Up- 
on the bells of the horses shall be holiness to the Lord." 
Such extensive piety has not been known. This improve- 
ment of mankind will be effected by the gospel. " Grace and 
truth come by Jesus Christ," and " in him shall all the families 
be blest." The gospel is a system of morals and religion, de- 
signed to render men moral and religious. But war annuls 
the precepts of religion, repeals the statutes of morality, con- 
founds right and wrong. While war prevails, the gospel can- 
not have its full effect. 

The gospel requires men to do good. The very business 
of war is mischief and damage. The gospel requires men to 
forgive their enemies. Revenge is often the chief design of 
war. The gospel commands men to feed the poor and com- 
fort the afflicted. The sword drinks the blood of the afflict- 
ed, robs and plunders the poor, covers him with wounds, and 
leaves him half dead. Truth and sincerity are precepts of 
the gospel ; and are reputable in the dwellings of peace ; but 
the warrior glories in executing the work of destruction by 
artifice, by delusion, and stratagem. 

While the devout Christian sits pondering how he may com- 
fort the sorrowful, enlighten the ignorant, and reform the 
wicked, the man of blood is contriving and plotting, to van- 
quish yonder army, to ravage the country, covering the fields 
with the wounded and the dead. 

The gospel forbids murder. Yes, it does. But is not this 
the grand purpose of war ? Why else all the swords, and 
balls, and engines of death ? The combination of ten thou- 
sand men, to slay ten thousand, is not less murderous, than the 
resolution of one man to slay one man. Had Cain been a 
king, and marched an army to destroy his brother, would this 
have lessened his guilt ? 



Did God not include kings, when he said, " Thou shall not 
kill?" Did he not include their victorious legions? If one 
man may not commit murder, how many must unite to make 
it innocent and glorious ? May two, — two hundred, — two 
million ? Two million have no more right to murder and 
destroy, than two individuals. 

When pure Christianity shall cover the earth, avarice and 
revenge will be extinguished; ambition will he dethroned, 
and war expire. The acknowledged design of the christian 
religion is to induce men to love their enemies, to be like 
Jesus Christ, who resisted not evil. b it possible for such a 
man, his sword, and rush to the hill of battle? Can 

be bid the artillery blaze? Can he become tin' angel of death, 
and scalier plague and pestilence round the globe? When 
rulers, all possess this benevolence, who will proclaim the 
war ? When commanders have this spirit, who will order the 
battle? When the mass of mankind have the spirit of Christ, 
where will soldiers be found ? Where will you find a man to 
slay his neighbor ? 

The rendezvou iken. The shrill piercing, hoarse 

rattling instruments; the harsh clattering sounds of martial 
bands, are silent, as the deserted field of battle, where death 
pots in dismal solitude. All are gone to the house of worship, 
to celebrate the jubilee of peace, to join in the song of an- 
gels. Will they ever again carry fire, famine, and destruction 
into peaceful countries, the dwellings of helpless women, the 
mothers in Israel, the daughters of Jerusalem ? For such a bar- 
barons invasion, they must tear the last fibre of benevolence 
from their hearts, quench the last spark of humanity, kindle 
the (lame of malice and revenge. These are the passions, 
which push men on in the trade of war; these are the furies, 
which rule the man, in the rage of battle. Will not Christian- 
ity, when it shall become universal, arrest the ravages of war, 
and establish lasting peace ? 



e 

II. From the benevolent efforts, now made in the christian 
world, I infer the entire suppression of war. 

I do not mean, that any thing absolutely new is taking place. 
Somewhat of this kind has been done in almost every age of 
the christian church. But present exertions are probably 
more extensive and better directed, than in any former time. 

The exertions of christian philanthropy are not confined to 
a sect, or a country. To the protestant nations, and to the 
Greek church, a mighty impulse has been given. Many mem- 
bers of the Latin church, and some of them dignitaries, are 
coming forward to reform the world. Children and matrons, 
who receive charity themselves, bring their offerings to the 
treasury of the Lord. Ministers of religion and officers of gov- 
ernment, rich men and nobles, suspend their own pursuits ; 
princes leave their palaces, and kings come down from their 
thrones, to assist the corporations of benevolence. These so- 
cieties, though by different paths, are all marching to the same 
point, the peace of the world. 

If the Bible Societies obtain their object, peace will follow ; 
for peace is commanded in their sacred volume. If the Mis- 
sionary Societies succeed, peace will follow ; for the gospel 
requires peace. If the Education or Literary Societies accom- 
plish their hopes, peace will triumph ; for the great object of 
education is to enlighten the mind and direct the life. If re- 
ligion or science gain the empire of the human mind, the 
reign of peace is established ; for all rational religion and use- 
ful science breathe the spirit of peace. 

If twelve fishermen changed the moral complexion of the 
world, in spite of the laws, the religion, and the vices of 
Paganism, what may we not expect from the present move- 
ment of the christian world ! 

Christianity was a helpless Babe, slumbering in a manger of 
Bethlehem ; she is now a giant, rejoicing to run her course. 
Her friends were a handful of poor, illiterate Nazarenes ; they 
are now an innumerable host, possessing a great portion of the 
power, the science, and the wealth of the world. 



A vast accession of influence is acquired by the union o( 
numbers, by voluntary associations. 

Can all these engines move in vain ? Would the God of 
wisdom produce all these labors to no lasting purpose ? 
Would he create all these luminaries, to go out in darkness ? 
Pouring their beams in one direction, must they not scatter 
the clouds of war, dispel the darkness, and melt the vapors 
into a day of light, of peace, and glory ? 

III. God has promised his people a period of security and 
felicity, not compatible with a state of warfare ; hence I infer 
that wars must cease. 

"They shall build houses, and inhabit them; they shall 
plant vineyards, and cat the fruit of them. They shall not 
build, and another inhabit; they shall not plant, and anoth- 
er eat ; — mine elect shall long enjoy the work of their hands. 
They shall not labor in vain, nor bring forth for trouble. 
They shall sit every man under his vine, and under his fig- 
tree, and none shall make him afraid." 

These, and .similar passages, need no comment. They 
describe a state of comfort and security, which can never be 
known, while a banner waves, or a sword glitters in the hands 
of a warrior. Does any people enjoy such rest and felicity 
in the atmosphere of armies? Do those, who are defeated, 
conquered, vanquished, fleeing, falling, dying? Do the 
peaceful inhabitants, alarmed and driven from their homes ? 

The field of war is like the fabled sea of Sodom, in whose 
atmosphere no creature could live; along whose dismal coast, 
no fruit nor blossom was seen, no cheerful voice was heard. 
So in the region of war, no sound is heard ; but the riot of 
victory, the shout of revenge, the sigh of misery, the shriek 
of horror, or the groan of death. The dwellings of war are 
like those of Egypt, when solid darkness covered the land ; 
when no man could safely leave his home ; when death was 
in every house ; terror and dismay in every heart. 

Were these sufferings confined to men, to military men, we 
might be patient ; but another portion of the human family; 



8 

wkose sex renders them more defenceless; whose gentle voice 
cheers the distressed ; whose kindness binds up the wounds 
of an enemy ; whose piety soothes the anguish of his last mo- 
ment, woman, is often overwhelmed in the miseries of war. 
How often may it be said, " From the daughter of Zion, 
all her beauty is departed. Her tears are on her cheeks. 
Among all her lovers, she has none to comfort her. She has 
fallen by the sword." 

History confirms all this. Glance an eye at a single short 
series. What was the state of the Canaanites, assailed and 
subdued by Joshua? What was the state of the Jews, van- 
quished and led captive by Vespasian ? What was the state 
of the Romans, overrun and conquered by the barbarians of 
the North ? What has been the condition of these conquerors, 
during the wars of modern Europe ? 

Read again the history of those revolutions, and say — I 
think, I hear you say, " War is a monster, more enormous 
than the fabled giants of old, who piled up the mountains to 
scale the heavens. While he walks on earth, his head wrapt 
in clouds, his arms encircle the world. From one hand he 
hurls all the weapons of destruction ; from the other, he scat- 
ters the seeds of famine, plague, and pestilence. He beholds 
a country of prosperous husbandmen and merchants ; he robs 
and plunders, and leaves them wretched. He devours an 
army, and cries, ' give, give.' The sun shines ; but no har- 
vest rewards the laborer. The rain falls ; but no verdure 
clothes the ground ; the monster has trodden on the fields } 
his breath has blasted the country." 

Yes, my friends, your picture is not so shocking, as 
the hideous original. But, blessed be God, he has prom- 
ised, that those, " who plant, shall eat the fruit." Hence the 
fury of war is passing away ; a brighter day is dawning. 
" Comfort ye, comfort ye, my people, saith your God ; speak 
ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her, that her war- 
fare is accomplished." 



IV. I infer that wars will cease, when Christianity, purified, 
shall become universal ; because the Christians, in the first 
ages of the gospel, refused to bear arms. 

They supposed that their religion forbid war. Men, who 
received their religious opinions from Christ himself, or from 
his apostles, or their immediate successors, refused to bear 
arms, or perform any military duty. For about three hun- 
dred years, Christians would suffer martyrdom, rather than 
be seen to a camp with sword or spear. 

Justin and Tatian, in the second century, both declare war 
'unlawful, and Satan its author. In the second and third cen- 
turies, Tertullian and Alexander, strongly, condemn the cus- 
tom of war. Tertullian inquires, " Can a soldier's life be law- 
ful, when Christ has declared, that he, 'who takes the sword, 
shall perish with the sword ?" Shall he, who is not to revenge 
his own wroogs, briog others into chains and imprisonment, 
torment and death ?" 

Lactantius, the friend of Constantinc, and tutor of his son, 
says, " It can never be lawful, for a righteous man to go to 
war, whose warfare is righteousness itself." To these names 
of renown, in the christian church, we may add Cyprian, a 
martyr in A. D. 258, with Ambrose, Archelaus, Chrysostom, 
Jerome, and Cyril ; all of whom were of opinion, that war was 
unlawful 10 Christians. 

The practice of those early Christians agreed with their 
principles. In the rebellions against Verus and Severus, which 
extended from A. D. 170 to 195, the Christians were suspect- 
ed. Tertullian appealed to the pagan world, and repelled the 
slander. "You defamed us," saith he; " not a Christian could 
be found in any of the rebel armies." This fact is worthy of 
all notice. Those armies constituted, nearly, half the legions 
of the Roman empire, stationed in Egypt, Palestine, and 
Britain. Yet, not a Christian soldier could be found in their 
ranks. 

: 



10 

The writers of those times make a distinction betweed Sol- 
diers and Christians. Clemens calls Christians the Peacea- 
ble, and says, " They never use sword nor bow." 

About A. D. 180, Ireneus says, "The famous prophecy, 
1 Their swords shall be turned to ploughshares, and their 
spears to pruning hooks,' was then fulfilled." " The Chris- 
tians have" saith he, " changed their swords and their lances 
into instruments of peace. They know not how to fight." 

Speaking of the same prophecy, Justin says, " This is ful- 
filled, for we, who in time past killed one another, do not now 
fight with our enemies." Accordingly, Celsus, an enemy to 
Christianity, in the third century, brings this, as a reproach, 
that Christians would not bear arms for their emperor. He 
tells them, that if all were of their opinion, the empire would 
be overrun with barbarians. So do friends and foes, unitedly, 
testify, that the first Christians would not bear arms." 

When Constantine, a warlike prince, professed Christianity, 
then probably a military life became reputable with Christians. 
After this we find them in his armies. A dreadful change was 
produced.* From that period war has prevailed among the 
professed disciples of Christ. But though from every quarter 
of the globe, we now hear of standing armies, they will be dis- 
banded, and return to their peaceful homes. Though the noise 
of battle is yet heard, and ramparts of destruction rise in eve- 
ry country, those mounds shall fall ; those scenes of death 
and desolation will be enlivened, by the dwellings of domes- 
tic felicity, covered with the blossoms of spring, and the har- 
vests of autumn. Though the ocean thunders, her billows 
rising with blood, those hostile navies shall return to their 
ports, to waft the heralds of peace to their appointed stations. 
" The Lord will bless his people with peace. He maketli 
wars to cease unto the ends of the earth." "Nation shall not 
lift up sword against nation ; neither shall they learn war any 
more." 

* See an Essay by Thomas Clarkson. 



11 



IMPROVEMENT. 

I. Hence we learn the importance of publishing this final 
result of christian influence. 

This may kindle hope and zeal, to hasten the event. If 
the gospel be destined to produce universal peace, it ought to 
be known, that suitable measures may be adopted, to accom- 
plish the object. The interesting fact ought to be proclaimed 
from the pulpit, from the press, from the senate, and from the 
throne. 

The mighty theme of universal peace may well awaken the 
most powerful strain- of human eloquence, the tongue of the 
learned; the pen of the ready writer; the songs of angels. 
When they were permitted to announce the reign of peace, 
they seized the moment with raptures of bliss. Shall not the 
Is of the churches, in the same spirit, proclaim peace on 
earth ? Is not this the gospel? Did not the angels understand 
the gospel ? 

II. Docs not the subject afford encouragement to multiply 
Peace Societii 

Peace, and all its blissful must be produced by hu- 

man exertion-. No irresistible charm, no secret incantation, 
no miraculous voice, will silence the fury of war. No. The 
sings of peace must be obtained, as other blessings are. 
As science, wealth, or piety are, by persevering effort and 
self-denial. The day of enthusiasm has gone by. We do 
lumber on the couch of the sluggard, to procure the fa- 
vors of heaven ; but we go forth to seek them. Vigorous 
and extensive means will introduce universal peace. These 
societies are powerful means. They embody a mass of sound 
principles, facts, and arguments. They may influence public 
opinion, and break the sword of the conqueror. 

III. We learn the importance of electing rulers, who are 
men of peace. 

Rulers are the makers of war and peace. They carry the 
olive branch to every door ; or cover the fields with swords 






12 

and spears. If the people elect men of peace for rulers, wars 
must stop. The people do not declare war ; it is never their 
interest. They do not consent, till they are deluded and infat- 
uated by designing men. 

Were all rulers such men, as the first Christians, no more 
blood nor treasure would be wasted ; the banner of blood 
would no more wave over the land ; our brethren would no 
more march to the field of battle. 

Warlike rulers are the Achans of their country, the Pando- 
ra's box, which fills the world with misery. To revenge - 
some imaginary wrong, to maintain some childish point of 
honor, to enlarge their territory ; to advance their glory, they 
associate their names with scenes of havoc and carnage. 
They blow the trumpet ; they rouse the passions ; they in- 
flame their people with the lust of plunder and revenge, and 
send them to the field of slaughter and death, to feast the 
hawks and vultures of heaven. Will not your regard to your 
own interest, and your concern for your children and posteri- 
ty, persuade you to elect rulers, who are lovers of peace ? 
You are the real sovereigns of the country. Unless you re- 
quire peace from your rulers, you will be accountable to God* 
for every drop of blood, which may be shed. Every man, 
w T ho is slain in war, will be an accusing spirit, before the tri 
bunal of divine justice. 

IV. Is it fancy, or do you all seem to suggest the wisdom 
and necessity of discouraging and suppressing all excitements to 
war. These prolong the mischief; these prevent the advance 
of peace. 

Yes, my friends, I agree with you, that if any excitements 
do exist, they ought to be suppressed, as war itself, in disguise. 
Destroy the means of mischief, and you destroy the mischief | 
itself. 

It may, perhaps, be reasonably inquired, whether all mili- 
tary honors, and titles, and rewards, have not the baleful effect j 
of promoting war. What could more violently tempt men to 
the field of destruction, than splendid rewards ? Governments 



13 

- 

well understand this art of making dupes and victims of their 
subjects. 

Does not all martial music have the same effect, by produc- 
ing delightful associations with the trade of war ? 

The war song of the poet, the harmony of his numbers, the 
sublimity of his style, the splendor of his descriptions, in- 
flame the passions with the fury of battle. 

Might not some historians be more useful, if they distinctly 
related the wickedness and miseries of war ? May I not in- 
quire whether some of them do not, though perhaps uninten- 
tionally, siu against benevolence and humanity? With allur- 
ing eloquence, with all the magic charms of style, they describe 
the march of armies, the splendor of their arms, the valor of 
their commanders. In all the pomp of gay description, the 
field of action rises in distant view. The columns move ; the 
plumes and banners wave. You hear the thunder of the bat- 
tle, and the shout of victory. The grandeur of the exploits, 
the sublimity of the varied scenes, delight the imagination, 
and you applaud the murderers of your brethren. But the 
historian does not carry you to the spot. You do not hear 
the cries and shrieks of the wounded. You do not see the 
shattered limbs, the mangled bodies, the convulsive agonies of 
the dying ; — the blood streaming, — the field red, — no physi- 
cian, — no friend to give relief or consolation. You see not 
the ground covered with limbs, and bodies, and heads, their 
ghastly visages, still marked, with rage and despair. 

I ask, are not all military establishments, particularly, milita- 
ry academies, excitements to war ? Must they yet exist ? 
Whore then shall they be established ? In our cities, where 
better principles of peace and commerce prevail ? Or near 
our colleges to pervert the study of the liberal sciences, and 
poison the waters of the sanctuary ? No. Do not 1 hear you 
all say, " Rather let these seminaries of blood, these colleges 
of misery and murder, be erected far from the region of do- 
mestic felicity, and the pleasant walks of social life, on some 
mountain's lofty top, in the region of eternal winter, where 



14 

the blossoms of spring were never seen, where the tiger's yell 
was never heard, amid the brew of storms, and the howlings 
of tempests ; or on the side of a smoking volcano, in the sub- 
urbs of death and destruction, where lightnings flash, and 
thunders burst ; there let the gloomy walls of the military 
academy rise. 

Let tombs, and graves, and bones, mark the path to this dis- 
mal spot. Let the standing army of the country, from a thou- 
sand fields of battle, transport the skulls and shattered. bones 
of the slain, to build the fortress of their defence, to raise 
their own fabric. The region of Smolensk and Moscow, of 
Leipsic and Waterloo, present their mournful offerings. The 
banks of the Beresina and Rhine, of the Danube and Nile, 
raise their voice to be relieved, from the relics of recent 
battles. 

As these men of war proceed in their labors, instead of sup- 
plication and praise, let the war whoop and the song of death, 
the clang of arms and the roar of artillery, announce their 
morning toils, their evening rest. 

On their banqueting room, some artist, who delights him- 
self with human misery, may paint the carnage of war, Nim- 
rod, and Caesar, and Tamerlane, with their veteran bands, 
covering the field with death. The blood flows ; the piles of 
the dead rise, and shrieks of anguish torment the air. 

In their apartments of rest, if such spirits ever rest, the 
surgeons may be drawn, with their knives and saws of ampu- 
tation. The victims of battle ; — streaming wounds, shattered 
limbs, pale visages, ghastly bodies, surround the slumbers of 
the young warriors. Their passions, their thoughts, their 
studies, and their dreams, are stained with blood. Instead of 
reading the word of life, they are studying the volumes of 
death, the arts, the deceptions, and stratagems of murder and 
destruction. Instead of making men happy, by cultivating the 
arts, and extending the news of salvation, they are ripening 
their plots, sharpening their swords, and hardening their hearts, 
to make themselves adepts in the trade of blood and misery. 



15 

While the hosannas of the sabbath ascend from the temples 
of peace, there the day is marked by no morning prayer, no 
evening sacrifice, no memorials of a Savior's dying love. No 
pious traveller bids them God speed. No minister of divine 
mercy preaches to them peace and good will. The sacred 
oracles, the whispers of the Holy Spirit, the songs of Zion, the 
sighs of devotion, the melting strains of redeeming love, never 
echo from these walls, surrounded with the images of revenge 
and murder, of pestilence and death. 

Most devoutly do we all pray, that the time may be hasten- 
ed, when these mansions, like Babylon, may be left desolate, 
and without inhabitant; when thorns shall come up in these 
palaces, nettles and brambles in these fortresses, the habitation 
of dragons, and a court for owls, where the vulture shall seek 
her mate, and the satyrs dance; where no rain nor dew shall 
fall, the streams be pitch, and the dust brimstone; where the 
thistle shall shake his lonely head, the moss whistle in the 
wind, the fox look out at the windows; the grass of the wall 
waving round his head. 

Why dost thou build these towers, thou man of blood ? 
Thou lookest from thy halls to-day ; yet a short time, and 
silence shall be in the house of war ; the blast of the desert 
comes, and howls in thy empty courts. 

Once I saw a military parade with a rapture of delight. 
Now, wiser and better men approve them, as useful and 
necessary. I venerate their virtues, and am persuaded, they 
will permit me to inquire, and anxiously inquire, whether they 
are indispensable, and whether they are not powerful excite- 
ments to war ? Do not the regular march, the waving stan- 
dard, the sparkling armor, the animating music, array the hydra 
of war in the robes of pleasure? Alas! my friends, your 
fathers have found a field of battle, very different from a mili- 
tary review. Is not a review a pleasant summer sea, just 
ready to be roused to a furious storm, to shipwreck the mari- 
ner, to deluge the country ? Is not a review a slumbering 
volcano, covered with blossoms, ready to burst with rivers of 



16 

fire ? Where, ivhere, is the ruler, who will stop this moral 
pestilence. His name shall be enrolled in the annals of glory, 
his reign shall commence a new era of virtue and felicity. 

" Swift fly the years, and rise the expected morn, 
Oh spring to light, auspicious Babe, be born." 

I say nothing of the vice and crimes of military days ; I say 
nothing of their expense, which, with the peace establishment, 
would furnish instructers for more than two million children. 

Who would mourn the loss of these days ? A few warriors, 
wading to glory, through the blood of their neighbors. The 
grave would mourn, comparatively vacant and solitary. Death 
would lament the loss of the war song and brigade review. 
His arm is weak, his arrow is broken ; he waits the slow 
operations of disease and age ; the monster seems expiring 
himself. " Where," he cries, " where is the spirit of War ? 
Where is the noise and charm of military days ? Where is 
the parade and music of battles ? Oh, that it were with me, 
as in other times, when w T hole nations made arms their sport 
and pleasure ; then I destroyed thousands and myriads in a 
day, as at Arbela and Pharsalia, at Jerusalem and Ashkelon, 
at Pavia and Warsaw." 

When will men be wise ; when will they suppress these 
occasions of war ? 

V. May I not say, the subject calls on us to unite in pro- 
curing permanent peace. 

Reasons for hope and confidence may well inspire the heart 
with zeal and energy. The gospel will become universal, and 
peace will finally prevail. But means must be used. Lazarus 
will rise ; but the great stone must be rolled from the tomb. 
God will have us use means, even when he intends to perform 
a miracle. 

Kings and conquerors love fame and power too well, to rest 
in peace, while their subjects are foolish enough to be butch- 
ered for their pleasure. Who then is willing to march and 
perish for the gratification of his rulers ? Him, alas, have I 









17 

offended. Who is willing to endure pain, and sickness, and 
death, that a few generals may be heroes ; that a few commis- 
saries may drive their chariots, the wheels red with their blood? 

Yes ; that day when subjects resolve no longer to be sacri- 
ficed, peace will gladden the world. When will this day 
arrive ? May I not call on all the disciples of Jesus, to raise 
their voice, to enlist under no captain ; but the Captain of your 
salvation ? I know you cherish his spirit. Mild and gentle, 
holy and harmless, his every act was benevolent. He came, 
not to destroy ; but to save life. He healed the sick ; he fed 
the poor, and relieved the widow and the fatherless. So, like 
him, to-day, have you come up to his house, to comfort the 
widow and the fatherless, a delightful service, for a divine 
Master. You hear his voice ; " Ye have done it unto me." 
I know your benevolent wishes, and I know the limited means 
of many. The country is burdened ; your people are burden- 
ed, with the enormous expenses of past wars, of a standing 
army, and preparations for wars to come. The merchant and 
the farmer are rifled of their best profits, to gorge the dragon 
of war. When this monster expires, our country will be rich ; 
they will feed the poor, and make the widow's heart sing for 
joy ; her barrel of meal, and her cruise of oil will never fail. 
Then the treasuries of our hospitals, our missionary and char- 
itable societies, will overflow with the contributions of peace. 
Silver and gold will abound, as in the days of Solomon. Say 
then, to the weary sword, " It is enough." 

But here I must not forget to urge the instructers of our 
schools, to impress their children with the odious nature of 
revenge, of ambition, and war. Imbue their hearts with the 
temper of the lamb. Whole countries may be saved by your 
mild lessons. Your children will soon be men, and form the 
mass of society. What they are, the nation will soon be. 
Immensely important is your responsibility. 

I need not call on mothers or daughters, to join the celestial 

throng, to proclaim peace on earth. You can never, patiently, 

see your brothers, your husbands, your sons, torn away, to 

perish on the frozen mountains of the north, nor the burning 

3 



18 

plains of the south. In history women are renowned, as the 
friends of peace. In the civil wars of England, two or three 
thousand repaired to the House of Commons, to implore the 
blessings of peace. In this glorious cause will you not exert 
your influence in society, which is greater than senates or 
armed legions possess. I beseech you, with the eloquence of 
truth, pronounce your abhorrence of hands, which are red with 
the blood of the slain. 

Do we not all unite in petitions of peace to our own legisla- 
tors ? No man can estimate the effects of their influence in 
private, of their votes and eloquence in public. To them we 
look as our guardian angels ; to them we fly, for permanent 
peace. As men, as our representatives, as Christians, do they 
not give us a pledge, that we shall not be disappointed ? 

The Presidents, and Professors, and Preceptors in our 
colleges and seminaries, I congratulate, on the distinguished 
eminence, which they enjoy. You are forming those minds, 
which soon may control the public affairs of the country. The 
science, the wisdom, the eloquence, which you teach, may 
carry peace and safety from the palace to the cottage, and 
delight the world with the song of angels. We will not believe 
it possible for you to neglect one lesson, which may animate 
your pupils with the love of peace. If they make the attempt, 
is not their victory certain ; will they not be the saviors of 
their country; must not their power of persuasion, in the court 
and senate, deliver the world from the havoc and carnage of 
war ? 

My brethren in the ministry have prevented my urging, or 
recommending the work of peace to them. Your repeated 
votes, your unanimous votes have proclaimed the benevolent 
sentiments of your hearts, and given a solemn pledge of your 
attachment to your Savior, as the Prince of peace. Still may 
I not ask myself and you, whether we have done all in our 
power, to promote this precious cause ? Have we thoroughly 
instructed and convinced our own people ? Our nobles are 
from ourselves, and our governor proceeds from the midst of 



19 

us. Our people direct the affairs of the Commonwealth. This 
Commonwealth has a powerful influence in the councils of the 
nation. If our general government were to say to the troubled 
sea of war, " Peace ; be still," might not the effect surpass all 
calculation ? 

Let us not rest, till our people have adopted the heavenly 
doctrine of peace on earth. Let us not imagine our duty 
done, while any thing remains, which can possibly be done. 
Though the fires of war be again lighted up in Christendom, 
your faith is unshaken. The Prince of peace will not forget 
his own name, nor blast the hopes, which rest on the promises 
of his word. 

Had I any mode of access to the kings of the earth, forget- 
ting my humble capacity, 1 would beseech them to have mer- 
cy on the family of man, and stop the effusion of human blood. 
I would say, Sires, though you are as gods, you must die like 
men. The wanton destruction of life is murder; the blood 
of armies may be required at your hands ; grasping at more, 
you may lose what you have. Remember Bajazet, a captive, 
exhibited, as a show in an iron cage. Remember Charles, a 
prisoner, and executed before his own palace. Behold Na- 
poleon, chained to a rock in the ocean. These were the 
warriors, who made the world tremble. 

Yes, my beloved hearers, the work is begun ; the work is 
advancing. Peace Societies are established in Europe and 
America. Mankind are opening their eyes. The sun of 
righteousness and peace is rising. The black night of war 
is passing away. The fountain of peace is breaking forth to 
refresh the world. Does not the sublime subject command 
all the affections of your hearts ; all the efforts of your power ? 
If ye hold your peace, will not the stones cry out ? Will not 
tin 4 temples, profaned ; the fields, red with blood ; the beasts 
and cattle, destroyed ; the lostsjririts of a thousand battles, carry 
in their charge, before the throne of the great Eternal. 

Does one man of the human family resist the doctrine of 
peace ? Is one man grieved, hurt, or displeased ? I only 



20 

ask. and I do affectionately ask, such a man, — are not the 
unavoidable sufferings of mankind, numerous and terrible 
enough ? Can you wish the life of mortals, to be shorter, o~ 
death more certain, or more dreadful ? 

Do not consumption, and poverty, and pestilence, and fe- 
vers, render the days of man sufficiently uncertain and mis- 
erable ? Why, then, will you wantonly add all the undescrib- 
able horrors of war, to the long catalogue of human woes? 

At home, on a bed of down, surrounded by dearest friend^, 



do you wish the agonies of death more terrible ? 

Go near the bed of a dying parent, or a dying child ; be- 
hold the agonies of their last hours. Are not thejr anguish 
and misery enough for them to endure, or for you to witness ? 

Would you wish, they were far off on the ocean, to meet a 
violent death, without a friend to soothe the last moment: 
without tire consoling offices of religion ? Would you tear 
ihem from their pillows, and send them to expire on the field 
of battle ? 

Do you, indeed, wish to multiply the sufferings of life, and 
aggravate the horrors of dissolution ? Do you wish the t 
of the widow to flow with keener anguish ? Do you wish the 
shriek of the orphan more dismal ? Do you wish the king of 
terrors, a wider range, a more rapid march, a more frightful 
appearance ? Do you wish more domestic sorrows, more 
public calamities, more sighs and groans to load the air, more 
tears to water the world ? 

If not ; then implore and beseech the God of peace, to stop 
the fury of war ; enrol your name among the friends of peace ; 
and join in the song of angels ; a Glory to God in the highest; 
on earth, peace, and good will towards men." 

Amex. 



SERMON 



DELIVERED AT THE ORDINATION OF THE 



REVEREND ARNER MORSE 



AS PASTOR OF THE 



FIRST CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH 



EN NANTUCKET, 



dec. 16, 1819. 



BY PHINEAS FISH, A. If. 

PASTOR OF THE CHURCH IN MAR6HPEE. 



BOSTON : 
PUBLISHED BY CHARLES EWER, NO. 51, CORNHILL. 

Sewell Phelps, Printer. 

18-20. 



SERMON. 



GALATIANS IV. 11. 

/ am afraid of you, lest I have bestowed upon you labour 

in vain. 

THE greatest of mankind cannot command that 
success to their designs and labours, which they ar- 
dently desire. We have a melancholy illustration of 
this remark in St. Paul's ministerial connexion with 
the people, to whom the words of the text were ad- 
dressed. His intercourse with them at first was of 
the most flattering kind. The Galatians received 
him as an angel of God, even as Christ Jesus. Such 
was their partiality to his person and ministry, that, 
had it been possible, they " would have plucked out 
their own eyes and have given them to him." They 
appeared to profit by his preaching; received the 
doctrines of the Gospel ; began their course in the 
spirit; and for a time they ran well. But the most 
favourable beginnings do not always terminate in the 
most happy results. Many, that hear the Gospel, 
manifest a very wavering, unsettled disposition ; easi- 
ly forget what has been inculcated on them, and, for 
want of established principle, are easily drawn over 
to the side of errour. The Galatians listened to cor- 



rupt and self-interested teachers — discarded the doc- 
trine of justification by faith only — trusted in the 
deeds of the law for righteousness : addicting them- 
selves to observances merely ceremonial, they re- 
garded " days, and months, and times, and years," 
according to the exploded ritual of Moses, and were 
willing to be in bondage again to the weak and beg- 
garly elements of that system of forms and shadows. 
So lamentably were they turned about, and so deeply 
had they imbibed the errours of their seducers, that 
the Apostle charges them with having embraced ano- 
ther Gospel; asserts that Christ had become of none 
effect, because they had fallen from that system, which 
alone ensures divine grace to men. Good reason had 
he then for uttering the complaint of the text. The 
feelings of St. Paul are not peculiar to himself. Every 
real minister of Christ will, in like circumstances, be 
conscious of the same emotions, and express them in a 
similar manner. 

I. What are the objects, in view of which a Chris- 
tian minister labours ? These are in general, to exhi- 
bit truth, and to render it effectual in reforming the 
hearts and lives of men. If, through the preaching of 
the Gospel, men are not aroused from their natural 
lethargy; convicted of sin; cut off from self-depen- 
dence ; induced to receive Christ for all the purposes, 
for which he has been exhibited to men, and to pur- 
sue to the end of life holiness in all its branches, the 
end of this sacred institution is defeated. 

According to the Scriptures, the object of preaching 
is the display of divine benevolence in the salvation of 
souls. By this mean it pleases God to impart life to 



the dead; light to them that sit in darkness; liberty 
to captives, and prelibations of heavenly blessedness 
to bosoms before the native possession of unrest and 
despair. When St. Paul received his commission to 
preach the Gospel, the Lord announced to him the 
object of his designation in these words, — " I now 
send thee to the Gentiles, to open their eyes, to turn 
them from darkness to light, and from the power of 
satan to God, that they may receive forgiveness of 
sins, and inheritance among them that are sanctified 
Jby faith that is in me." The actual effects of his 
preaching, the Apostle describes in his first epistle to 
the Thessalonians. "Our Gospel came not to you in 
word only, but also in power, and in the Holy Ghost, 
and in much assurance — and ye became followers of 
us and of the Lord, having received the word in much 
affliction, with joy of the Holy Ghost." The fruits of 
the Apostle's labours among them were so signal as 
to excite the attention of surrounding regions. "Ye 
were ensamplcs to all that believe in Macedonia and 
Achaia. For from you sounded out the word of the 
Lord not only in Macedonia and Achaia, but also in 
every place your faith to God-ward is spread abroad ; 
so that we need not to speak any thing. For they 
themselves shew of us what manner of entering in 
we had to you, and how ye turned to God from 
idols, to serve the living and true God ; and to wait 
for his Son from heaven, whom he raised from the 
dead, even Jesus, which delivered us from the wrath 
to come." In another place he observes, " for this 
cause also thank we God without ceasing, because 
when ye received the word of God, which ye heard 



of us, ye received it not as the word of man, but (as 
it is in truth) the word of God, which effectually 
worketh also in you that believe." 

Preaching the Gospel is therefore, by the appoint- 
ment of the great Head of the church, an institution, 
whose object is the most benevolent and useful, which 
the world ever witnessed. It has been the source of 
good to men already more extensively, than any other 
mean. It will, to the end of time, be the occasion of 
blessings still more rich and wonderful. 

These blessings, the faithful minister of Christ wish- 
es to see his people enjoying. He does not think his 
object attained, when his people respect him, yield an 
external compliance with his directions, and furnish 
him with the means of subsistence. These things are 
indispensable in their place. These are duties bind- 
ing on them, and grateful to him. The spirit of re- 
ligion requires the people to " honour the Lord with 
their substance," and to " esteem their pastors very 
highly in love for their work's sake." But though not 
wholly indifferent to such considerations, in preaching 
the Gospel, he has an inconceivably higher purpose. 
In view of this, it may be truly said, that he " seeks 
not theirs, but them" His labours have a view to the 
Christian edification of the souls committed to his 
charge. His prayer is, that grace, mercy and peace 
from God the Father, and from the Lord Jesus 
Christ, may be multiplied unto them. His unfeigned 
wish above all other things is, that the souls of his 
people may be in health and prosper; that the mem- 
bers of his flock may vie with each other in their 
love and devotion to Jesus Christ; that they may 



" consider one another, to provoke to love and to 
good works;" that religion may be viewed by the 
world as the supreme good, and that God may be 
glorified in all things. 

What servant of Jesus Christ realizes such success 
of his labours to the extent of his wishes ! How ma- 
ny are compelled to respond to the prophet's com- 
plaint — " I have laboured in vain, and spent my 
strength for nought," and to declare to their people 
with St. Paul, " I am afraid," &c. This melancholy 
state of things we shall contemplate more nearly, by 
inquiring, in the second place, 

II. When the minister of Christ may be said to 
bestow " labour in vain ?" — A sense of unprofitable- 
ness among his people is one of the greatest trials of a 
minister's life. It deadens exertion, impairs his com- 
forts, depresses his spirits, and may even have a seri- 
ous influence upon his health, and conduce not a little 
to bring him down to a premature grave. To be 
constrained to say with St. Paul, " I have great heavi- 
ness and continual sorrow in my heart," is a state so 
gloomy and exhausting, that flesh and blood cannot 
endure it long, unless powerfully supported from on 
high. There is cause for the Apostle's complaint, 

1. When the people flagrantly neglect religious 
means. In every society there will be some, and in 
certain places, alarming numbers, who undervalue 
and neglect the institutions of God. The Bible, un- 
consulted, slumbers in their dwellings, encumbered 
with the dust of years; prayer is a strange work; 
the holy Sabbath is profaned by sloth or sinful indul- 
gence ; the solemn and interesting duties of the house 



8 

of God, the ministrations of his word, are treated as 
the inventions of men. The Christian watchman, 
concerned for their awful state, visits them ; warns 
them of the consequences of an impious life ; entreats 
them to escape from the wrath to come ; possibly 
prevails on them for a season to assume a greater 
degree of decency. But still unhallowed nature lives, 
revives again, and draws back the constrained wor- 
shipper to his wonted course of ungodliness. When 
the preacher finds that, through the laziness and im- 
piety of the people, he is left to preach only to empty 
seats and naked walls; when no better success fol- 
lows, if religious opportunities are brought even to 
their doors ; when entreaty and solemn remonstrance 
work no reformation; when perhaps the preacher's 
very presence is eluded, for the sake of avoiding im- 
portunity on a disagreeable subject; then is the time 
to use the language of the text; then may he feel, in a 
manner peculiarly pungent, that he has bestowed his 
labour in vain. 

2. When in a regular use of means, men remain 
unreformed. To secure a constant attendance on 
means of religion, is of great importance. — Religion 
cannot flourish till this be accomplished; nor will it 
flourish then, nor indeed even have existence, unless 
men go farther than merely to yield an outward con- 
formity to those customs and ceremonies, which are 
commonly thought decent and indispensable in the ser- 
vice of God. But how many flatter themselves they 
have done their whole duty, when they have attended 
the publick worship of God, though rather as spec- 
tators, than earnest worshippers ! — How many retire 



9 

from the house of God, and immediately recommence 
their habitual course of iniquity ! — Content with ap- 
proving the sermon that condemns their practice, 
they persist in the neglect of the most essential duties 
of life. They still venture to commit the sin, which 
they are solemnly assured will exclude them from the 
kingdom of heaven. When the minister of Christ 
perceives persons of this sort sitting insensible as 
stones under discourses, that might almost awake the 
dead; in the hearing of reproofs, that would cut a 
man of common feelings to the heart ; when the 
sound, " Thou art the man,"' produces no change; 
when years roll on, and there is no sensible turning 
to the Lord, no answer to the heavenly call, no mo- 
tion, not a finger stirred toward the promotion of one 
work of evangelical obedience; when these carcases 
of death are still presented from year to year amid 
the most solemn occasions of religion, and no more 
symptoms of returning life, than at the beginning; it 
is time for the preacher to say with St. Paul, "I am 
afraid," &c. 

3. When his labours only provoke opposition. 
This happened to Christ, to his immediate followers, 
and more or less to all the preachers of the Gospel, 
who have tolerably resembled them. The unhumbled 
are always interested in justifying themselves, and 
charging with errour such instructions as condemn 
them. It is no uncommon case for some of the hear- 
ers of the Gospel (as the Galatians treated St. Paul) 
to count their minister an enemy, because he tells 
them the truth. — Sometimes they are induced to for- 
sake his ministry, suspect his motives, throw out sar- 
2 



10 

casms against his measures, to speak disrespectfully of 
his understanding and his heart, and in various ways 
to obstruct his interest and usefulness. When any 
thing like this comes to be the case, He only, who 
has all hearts in his hands, and causes all their de- 
vices to subserve the promotion of his own glory, can 
determine how far benevolent exertions in behalf of 
mankind may prove unavailing. 

4. When, amid much of the form of godliness, 
there is little or nothing of the power. It is not for 
us to determine in all cases, when such is the state of 
things. At all times, both ministers and people have 
reason to dread and watch against it. A round of 
duties may be performed, and yet the heart wax more 
and more averse to the real spirit of the Gospel. Its 
humiliating truths may only inflame pride, and rouse 
up that hostility, which is but too natural to every 
child of apostate Adam. The life may be regular, 
and the heart cold — prayer may be made, without a 
spark of devotion — petitions may be offered, with a 
secret hope in the mind, that they may not be an- 
swered — many works may be done, not to glorify 
God, but to answer selfish ends — Christ may be pro- 
fessed, without becoming a proper object of trust, even 
without being regarded with a single right emotion — 
men may be just in their own eyes, while in the ac- 
count of God they may be a people, that have no 
knowledge, and far from righteousness. If such be 
the state of an individual or a community; if, amid all 
their regularity, the heart be not devoted to God ; if 
the sin ivithin be not forsaken; if the mind be not 
transformed by the renewing of the Holy Ghost ; if 



11 

Christ be not esteemed the only Saviour, and above 
all price, the condition of such a people is deplorable ; 
the prospects of their minister (if his own soul be 
awake,) is trying in the extreme. Like Herod, such 
a people may seem to hear gladly and to do many 
things — yet as to the great affair of salvation, they 
might as well have never heard of the Gospel. While 
such is the state of a people, their minister knows 
that, at present, he labours in vain. 

/). When men hold the truth in unrighteousness. 
The doctrines of the Gospel commend themselves so 
readily to the consciences of men, that many are per- 
suaded of their truth, whose hearts are yet not pene- 
trated by their power. From various sinister motives, 
not a few zealously advocate right principles, while 
their practical influence is greatly disregarded ; and 
thus Christ is wounded in the house of his friends. 
The truth was revealed, not that men might specu- 
late, but live. Every doctrine of the Gospel is intend- 
ed to improve the mind and morals of human beings; 
and whenever the IJoly Spirit does indeed take of the 
things of God, and shew them to the soul, holy fruit 
must follow. But the truths of revelation often dwell 
more in the head than heart. Men allow themselves 
to be too much directed by impulses on the mind ; 
puffed up with conceit of superiour attainments in the 
knowledge and favour of God; buoying up their 
hopes by a perversion of the doctrines of " Christ 
within :" enlightened, but not sanctified, they are 
tempted to look down upon others, as from a vast 
elevation, and not only despise them in their hearts, 
but sometimes sorely to reproach them with their 



12 

tongues. Such persons will not endure sound doc- 
trine. To talk of good tempers, Christian duties, 
and moral order, is esteemed by them no better than 
heathen philosophy; and a preacher can scarcely 
mention good works without suspicion of heresy. 
When such is the state of a Christian society; when 
the people relish nothing but dry doctrinal disquisi- 
tions, and matters of doubtful disputation, the faithful 
servant of Jesus Christ has special occasion to tremble 
for the ark. Persons who have fallen into this errour, 
usually by an uncommon warmth of feeling, and large 
expressions of love and zeal, call up the attention of 
men to remark the more their deficiencies in sobriety 
and uprightness of deportment; and religion, in conse- 
quence, receives an almost incurable wound. In anti- 
cipation of such a state of things, Christ cautioned his 
disciples, " if ye know these things, happy are ye if ye 
do them." St. Paul complains that, by reason of such 
persons, " the name of God was blasphemed among 
the Gentiles;" and declares that " the wrath of God 
is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and 
unrighteousness of men, who hold the truth in un- 
righteousness." But in this way, Christ is " set for 
the rising and falling again of many;" and through 
them he becomes a " sign to be spoken against." 
When the minister of Christ sees some in the church 
carried about with diverse strange doctrines, or defil- 
ing themselves by sin, walking openly without shame, 
as enemies of the cross of Christ; when he perceives 
others, who had put forth the buddings and blossoms 
of promise, destroying all hope by an untimely blight ; 
when the love of many waxes cold ; when errours in- 



13 

crease, corruptions multiply, jealousies, divisions and 
contests ensue; then is the time when the faithful pas- 
tor feels most powerfully of all others, that he has 
laboured in vain. 

III. In the third place, let us contemplate for a 
few moments the consequences of receiving the Gos- 
pel in vain. The Gospel implies the greatest grace, 
that has ever been made known to the world. 
Preaching is the ordinary method, in which it has 
pleased God to display this grace to their view, and 
to inculcate it upon the mind. " For after that in the 
wisdom of God the world by wisdom knew not God, 
it pleased God by the foolishness of preaching to save 
them that believe." When, therefore, by the preach- 
ing of the word, the heart of man becomes susceptible 
of religion in its genuine power and influence, the en- 
mity is slain ; the needful change of regeneration has 
passed ; the whole man is deliberately devoted to 
Christ, and every faculty prevailingly yields itself to 
his service. When the word becomes effectual, the 
Christian pastor becomes a sweet savour of Christ in 
them that are saved, a savour of life unto life. The 
change, that takes place in the hearer, has ordinarily 
a distinguished effect in the circle in which he moved ; 
and especially upon the whole course of his own 
future existence. While in this world, he has reason 
to thank God, through Jesus Christ, for the blessing 
of redemption, and for numberless others, which are 
inseparably attached to it. His life now bears the 
character of wisdom, where folly and madness once 
reigned unrivalled. He now steadily pursues the no- 
blest ends by the most proper means. He lives as 



14 

one, who designs to live forever. His sentiments, 
conversation and behaviour, bear a marked reference 
to that inevitable hour, when the frail tabernacle of 
flesh must be dissolved. When that hour arrives, he 
quits the world with a song of triumph on his tongue. 
Death, that seems to destroy, lays the foundation for 
permanent glory. It brings him home to God ; and 
he goes to enjoy, in the bosom of his reconciled Fa- 
ther, that fulness of joy, of which already he has re- 
ceived precious foretastes. — When the word preached 
is without profit, there is of course a most awful re- 
verse. Folly is then conspicuous, the lamp of wis- 
dom glimmers and trembles, in order to its going out 
forever. Present comforts are scanty and perishing. 
Respecting the future, fears and dreadful stupidity 
alternately prevail. Death is dreaded, but never pre- 
pared for. The soul, as the ground that " beareth 
thorns and briars, is rejected and is nigh unto curs- 
ing; whose end is to be burned." As therefore the 
effectual preaching of the word is that which instru- 
mentally saves men ; whenever the same word is re- 
sisted and despised, it must operate as a "ministration 
of condemnation." The preacher { is a watchman, 
stationed on the walls of Zion by her own everlasting 
King. If the people hear his warning and turn, their 
souls are delivered ; but if they hear not, neither turn 
at his reproof, they will die in their sin, and their blood 
be upon their own heads. The sinner has not rejected 
man, but God. He has affronted not only supreme 
majesty, but he has despised unrivalled mercy. The 
faithful pastor is afraid for his impenitent hearers, and 
he has reason for his fears. If they persist in causing 



15 

him to labour with them in vain, having had much be- 
stowed upon them, much will be required. Instead 
of exulting in them as his "joy and crown in the day 
of the Lord Jesus," he must hear the dread denuncia- 
tion, " Depart ye cursed," &c. 

Reflections. — 1. We discover the deep ruin that in- 
volves the human family. This is declared in that 
economy of grace, which the Father of mercies has 
contrived in order to repair the ruins of the fall; but 
still more deeply and awfully is the same fact de- 
clared, in the incredible abuse, which mankind in all 
ages have heaped upon the Gospel. It were natural 
to suppose, that men, as lost creatures, would hail 
Christ as the delight of the human kind ; would bow 
the knee to him in ecstacy of joy, and inquire into the 
contents of his Gospel with more eager search, than 
they employ, who dig for hidden treasure. But when 
we behold the wickedness, the errour, the profane 
abuse, the misconceptions of these sacred truths, into 
which men fall, and in which they remain with ap- 
parent contentment; when we behold the evasions, 
the false reasonings, the refuges of lies, to which so 
many resort, and from which it is so difficult to drive 
them; and when the conviction forces itself upon us, 
that all these methods are devised in order to elude 
the force and strictness of the religion of Christ; when 
we contrast this conduct of the sinner, with the inex- 
pressible love of Christ, and the boundless liberality of 
God the Father, we are obliged to perceive, that the 
depravity of the natural heart is great, great beyond 
expression, and baffling all attempt at apology. 



16 

2. Preaching appears to be one of the most im- 
portant employments. It is the institution of God. 
It has pleased him, that the most important interests 
of human beings for time and eternity should be plac- 
ed in indissoluble connexion with a faithful dispensa- 
tion of the word. It has been the means of reforma- 
tion and final rescue of millions of mankind from the 
pressure of present evils, and from the wrath to come. 
It will be the means of comfort and salvation to mil- 
lions more even to the end of time. It is repre- 
sented in Scripture as a high honour conferred upon 
man, and the first of men are unworthy of such a dis- 
tinction. St. Paul speaks of hiuiself as the chief of 
sinners, who was yet honoured of God to be put into 
the ministry; and he confesses that he was not fit to be 
called an Apostle. The preaching of the Gospel is an 
office, too, that attaches to it some of the most re- 
markable promises of God. " Faith (says the Apos- 
tle) cometh by hearing, and hearing by the word of 
God — how shall they believe in him of whom they 
have not heard ? and how shall they hear without a 
preacher?" The importance of preaching appears 
from a survey of the nature and state of man. Our 
fellow-creatures are busied in various worldly occupa- 
tions. They need a minister to investigate sacred 
truth for them, who can give himself wholly to these 
things, and can teach others, what they have not lei- 
sure to find out for themselves. Men are forgetful: 
if it were not the stated duty of some one to put them 
in mind, the knowledge of the most important truths 
would be in a short time wholly lost. Men are averse 
to the Gospel : if God had not raised up and maintain- 



17 

ed in his ministers, able and watchful advocates for the 
truth, the Gospel had long since been utterly pervert- 
ed, religion had been a mass of corruption — and errour, 
wickedness, and consequent misery, had overspread 
the earth. We have seen already, how many are the 
occasions of fear in the breast of a minister of Christ, 
arising from the corruptions of men. How much 
would these occasions be multiplied, and the sum of 
human evil in this world and the next be increased, 
were there no preachers of righteousness to reprove 
sin, and, in the name of the Most High, to place them- 
selves in opposition to the overwhelming Hoods of 
errour and impiety ! 

3. The work of the ministry is an anxious task. 
The Apostles of Christ past through unparalleled 
trials and hardships in preaching the Gospel. — There 
are trials, fears and perplexities now, and ever will be, 
while human nature remains the same. None can de- 
scribe, how much is implied in fully preaching the 
Gospel of Christ. When we consider the depth of 
the mysteries revealed; the character of the Author 
of revelation, and that of the beings to whom it is 
made; the nature of its truths; the almost endless va- 
riety of characters, to whom they are to be applied; 
and that the eternal life, or endless perdition of the 
hearers must be the consequence ; the preaching of 
the Gospel appears at once difficult, and calculated 
to impress the mind with a sense of mighty respon- 
sibility 

Dear Brother in Christ — You are now about to 
take upon yourself this weighty trust. Soon the 
hands of the presbytery will be laid upon you ; after 
,1 



18 

being devoted to God in prayer, you will receive a 
solemn charge to be faithful in the sacred office. 
In the prospect are you ready to exclaim, " who is 
sufficient for these things ?" — Remember him who 
hath said, "my grace is sufficient for you," and learn 
to go forth to your labours relying on that divine 
promise. The trials, that come to all, may fall heavily 
upon you. If you intend in all cases to please God, 
rather than even the best of men, this must be your 
case. But be not disheartened. Never for a moment 
think of suppressing the mention of important truth 
from fear of human opposition ; but prudently, affec- 
tionately and plainly preach the Gospel of Christ. 
We hope, that the desire of exalting the divine glories 
of the Saviour, and presenting a large number of pu- 
rified souls to him, as the trophies of his victorious 
grace, will stimulate you to unwearied exertions in the 
sacred calling. We hope the Spirit of God will guide 
you into all truth, and enable you to speak to others 
from experimental knowledge. As has been related 
of an ancient Christian bishop, who, being made the 
blessed instrument of converting almost a whole city 
from idolatry to the faith of Christ, being informed 
on his death-bed, that three or four individuals still 
remained, addicted to the pagan rites, devoutly called 
God to witness, how much it pained his soul, that so 
many remained in an unconverted state; so with re- 
gard to yourself, dear sir, may the thought of a few 
souls perishing forever, be most affecting, and prove 
sufficient to arouse you to strenuous action. Remem- 
ber him, who hath said, " be thou faithful unto death, 
and I will give thee a crown of life." And now. 



19 

Brother, "we commend you to God, and to the word 
of his grace, which is able to build you up, and to 
give you an inheritance among all them, that are 
sanctified." 

4. It is a solemn consideration, that any people has 
a minister of Christ to dwell among them. Their 
duties are reciprocal. If it be incumbent on him to 
teach, it is no less so on them to learn. If he be 
among them by the appointment of God, they must 
one day give account for the kind of reception they 
have given him. Brethren of this church and society, 
we trust you have this day one to be set over you in 
the Lord, who will approve himself a "pastor after 
God's own heart, to feed you with knowledge and 
understanding." We hope he will be kindly entertain- 
ed among you, and that you will endeavour that your 
love for him burn with an intense and an increasing 
flame. Remembering how much oftencr separation 
between minister and people is effected through an 
insensible diminution of respect and tenderness to- 
wards each other, than by any signal failure, be not 
forward to notice trivial faults; but carefully conceal 
them with the mantle of charity. Wait on his minis- 
try with constancy, patience and candour. Bear a 
part in all his afflictions. Let him not suffer incon- 
venience by parsimoniously withholding from him your 
support in temporal things. Let it not be thought a 
great thing, that he reaps of your carnal things, while 
he sows to you spiritual things. You cannot better 
" honour the Lord with your substance," than by 
bestowing a liberal portion of it on him, that labours 
with you in the word and doctrine. If your minister 



20 

be suffered by you to remain weighed down with a 
load of cares, arising from embarrassed circumstances, 
you will eventually defraud your own souls. Pray 
for him, that the Lord's pleasure may prosper in his 
hands; that his "doctrine" may "drop as the rain, 
and distil as the dew — as the small rain upon the ten- 
der herb, and as the showers, that water the grass." 
Bear in mind the eternal results of this day's solemni- 
ties. If your minister labour with you in vain, he will 
be to you a "savour of death unto death." Dying 
impenitent, your condemnation will be greater than 
that of fallen angels, who have never received the 
overtures of mercy. But if you receive his words, 
you will be a " people saved of the Lord." He will 
cause all things to " work together for good." " The 
Lord God will be a sun and shield ; he will give grace 
and glory ; and no good thing will he withhold from 
such as are upright in heart." 

Let this numerous assembly suffer a word of exhor- 
tation. As the creatures of God's power, you are 
destined for another world. For this transition, the 
preaching of the Gospel is intended to prepare you. 
Some of you, it is hoped, will be the better for the 
admonitions you have heard from the lips of the ser- 
vants of God, throughout eternal ages. Others, with 
means equally perfect, may have been hitherto " wax- 
ing worse and worse ;" their slumbers have been deep- 
ening ; their marks of reprobation are constantly grow- 
ing more apparent. Ministers and people will have a 
solemn interview at the tribunal of Christ. Very soon 
they will be exhibited to assembled worlds, either as 
" faithful stewards of the mysteries of God," or else 



21 

receive the indelible stigma of having clone the Ci work 
of the Lord deceitfully." At that time it will be said 
to every one of you, either, "Well done, good and 
faithful servants;" or else, "Depart ye cursed!" I 
will not attempt to describe, what our feelings will 
be on that momentous season. But, dwelling much 
on such meditations, let your hearts be enlarged in 
prayer for the ministers of Christ, that they spend not 
their strength for nought; and for yourselves, " that 
ye receive not the grace of God in vain." — Amen. 



CIJARGEe 

BY THE REV. HENRY LINCOLN, 



OF FALMOUTH. 



Dearly beloved Brother in the Lord, 

IN the name of the Ordaining Council, here 
convened, I do now solemnly charge thee before God 
and the Lord Jesus Christ, who shall judge the quick 
and the dead at his appearing and his kingdom, that 
thou take heed to the ministry, which thou hast re- 
ceived in the Lord, that thou fulfil it Many precious 
souls, over whom thou art now ordained, who are 
bound with thee to the judgment, will henceforth be 
looking up to thee for thy prayers, thine instructions 
and example, to point out to them the way of delive- 
rance from the wrath to come, and the narrow path, 
which leads to the kingdom of glory. 

Look well then to thine own heart, and see that it 
be right with God, that with right views and feelings, 
thou mayest ever address the consciences and hearts 
of men. Take heed to thyself and all the flock, over 
which the Holy Ghost hath made thee overseer, to 
feed the church of God, which he hath purchased 
with his own blood. Preach the word. Handle it not 
deceitfully. Preach it clearly, pungently and experi- 



' 23 

mentally. Teach not for doctrines the commandments 
of men; and although the time is come, when many 
will not endure sound doctrine, yet fail not to declare 
to them all the counsel of God, whether they will 
hear, or whether they will forbear. Teach not smooth 
things. Prophecy not deceits. Seek not to please 
men, especially of corrupt minds, lest you be not the 
servant of Christ. While the subject of discourse is 
solemn, let the manner of address be sweet. Speak 
the truth in love. The most important truths are 
often lost to the hearer by a severe and forbidding 
manner of communication. By your instructions and 
your life, always let your people understand, that you 
are determined to know nothing among: them save 
Jesus Christ and him crucified. 

Preach the discriminating doctrines of the cross, 
although most offensive to the carnal heart — although 
they be a stumbling block to Jewish prejudices, and 
folly to Grecian wisdom. Proclaim to sinners the entire 
depravity of the natural heart, and the infinite evil of 
sin. Tell them they are debtors to the whole law, 
and can make no restitution for sin, and that by the 
deeds of the law no flesh living can be justified. — 
Point them to the infinite atonement of the Lamb of 
God. Declare fully and forcibly the eternal and es- 
sential divinity of Jesus Christ, that all men may hon- 
our the Son even as thev honour the Father. Teach 
sinners that they must be bcrn again, or they cannot 
see the kingdom of God. Inform professors of reli- 
gion, that the best evidence of their renovation is love 
and good works, and that the necessary consequence 
of a new heart is a new life. Declare God to be a 



24 

holy and righteous Sovereign, and dwell with pleasing 
admiration on his electing love to his dear chosen ones. 
Fear not to say, that he will have mercy on whom he 
will have mercy, and whom he will he hardeneth. 
Enforce obedience by the eternal and tremendous 
sanctions of the holy law. Say you to the righteous, 
that it shall be well with him, for he shall eat of the 
fruit of his doings; wo unto the wicked, it shall be 
ill with him, for the reward of his hands shall be giv- 
en him ; and that at the last judgment, these shall go 
away into everlasting punishment, but the righteous 
into life eternal. 

Search the Scriptures with persevering diligence, 
that thou mayest be a scribe well instructed, bringing 
out of thy treasure things new and old. Look well 
to the state of thy flock, and feed, with a shepherd's 
tender care, the sheep and lambs of Christ's pasture. 
Administer the holy ordinances of baptism and the 
Lord's supper to the proper subjects, and bless the 
people in the name of the Lord. 

Direct in the discipline of the church, and purge 
out the old leaven, that it may be wholly a new lump. 
Be more disposed to prayer, than to vain disputation, 
and look to the wisdom which is from above, rather 
than to that which is from beneath, to direct thee. 
Assist in the ordination of all whom you believe God 
has called and qualified for the sacred work of the 
ministry. Frequently visit your people, to know their 
spiritual condition. Counsel and pray with the sick 
and the dying, and comfort those that mourn. Be in- 
stant in season and out of season. Reprove, rebuke, 
and exhort with all long suffering and doctrine. Pa- 



25 

tiently endure, and as much as in you lies, live peace- 
ably with all men. Be not overcome of evil ; but 
overcome evil with good. Thus let thy holy and 
blameless life be a living comment on thy preaching. 
— Be thou faithful unto death, and Christ shall give 
thee a crown of life which fadeth not away. 

And now, dear Brother, go forth in the strength of 
the Lord, and in the power of his might. Put on the 
whole armour of God, and contend earnestly for the 
faith. And may the Lord bless thee with a long life 
and an useful ministry, and give thee many precious 
souls, at last, as the crown of thy joy and eternal re- 
joicing in the great day of the Lord. — Amen. 



RIGHT HAND OF FELLOWSHIP. 



BY DAVID L. HUNN, A. M. 

Pastor of the Calvinistic Congregational Church and Society in Sandwich. 



THERE is an intimate, and an indissoluble union 
subsisting between all the churches of Christ. 

Thej are established upon the same immovable ba- 
sis ; are actuated by the same inspiring motives ; and 
are unitedly engaged in promoting the same benevo- 
lent object — the glory of God in the salvation of men. 
However separated from each other by time or place, 
sea or land, they are all one in Christ Jesus. 

This lays a foundation for a most intimate and en- 
dearing relation to subsist between all their respective 
spiritual members. 

They all belong to the same kingdom — they have 
all one God, one Redeemer, one Sanctifier. They 
have all drunk at the same fountain; and been all 
nourished with the same spiritual bread. They are all 
contending with the same enemies ; are all struggling 
against the same trials ; are all pursuing the same 
course ; are all following the same leader ; and will 
all, ultimately, arrive at the same place, and engage, 
conjointly, in the same blissful employment, forever. 



27 

Such are, indeed, all branches of the same vine, all 
members of the same body, and have all one hope of 
their calling. 

They are connected by a celestial bond, the strength 
of which neither intervening rivers nor mountains, 
oceans nor seas, can ever break or impair. 

Does such a union subsist between all the churches 
of Christ, and between all their respective spiritual 
members? — Then who can doubt the propriety of 
giving the right hand of fellowship, on occasions like 
the present ? 

But there is another consideration, which renders 
this part of our ordination service still more pertinent 
and interesting. 

Ministers of the Gospel are united to each other by 
ties still stronger, if possible, than are those, which bind 
together the great Christian family. They cherish a 
fellow-feeling peculiar to themselves. They have pains 
and pleasures, sufferings and enjoyments, with which 
the stranger intermeddleth not. 

Being engaged in the same delightful, yet arduous 
service; feeling, in a degree, the same tremendous 
responsibility ; and experiencing, at times, the same 
almost insupportable trials, they are prepared, at once, 
to enter into each other's feelings — to bear a portion 
of each other's burdens — and mutually to participate 
in each other's joys and sorrows. 

This consideration, my dear Brother, is calculated 
to lighten, in a degree, the almost insupportable bur- 
den, which, it is presumed, now presses upon you. 

Comforting must be the reflection, tliat you are 
surrounded by those, who have felt what you now 



28 

ieel, and who, in consequence, are prepared to relieve 
you, in some measure, by their sympathetic emotions 
for you, 

In their name, and at their request, I now, dear sir, 
give you this right hand. I give it to you most cor- 
dially. It is a pledge of our Christian and ministerial 
affection for you. By this significant token, first in- 
stituted by the Holy Ghost, in reference to the min- 
isterial work, we cheerfully acknowledge you as a 
brother, and fellow-labourer with us in the Gospel 
vineyard. 

Accept it, therefore, as expressive of the welcome 
reception we give you to the sacred office of the min- 
istry ; and of the joy that we feel in inducting you, as 
a labourer, into this interesting portion of the Lord's 
heritage. 

Accept it, as expressive of our confidence in your 
ability to discharge the duties of the office, with which 
you have this day been invested— as expressive, too, 
of our belief that you have been taught of God; that 
you have undertaken, from right motives, to preach 
the Gospel ; and that you will keep back nothing that 
may be profitable to your hearers — but with zeal and 
fidelity, declare the whole counsel of God, and thus 
show yourself *' a workman that needeth not to be 
ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth." 

Accept it, also, as expressive of our readiness to es- 
tablish and maintain ministerial and Christian inter- 
course with you, and with the church, whose oversight 
you have received in trust. 

So long as you continue earnestly to contend for 
the faith once delivered to the saints, and to adorn the 



29 

doctrines of God your Saviour in all things, so lono- 
will we, with all readiness of mind, cooperate witli 
you ; — so long will we hold ourselves in readiness to 
advise and consult with you, and, as occasion requires, 
to assist you in the great and good, but arduous, diffi- 
cult, self-den\ing and responsible work, on which you 
have voluntarily entered, and to which you are now 
solemnly con sec rated. 

Bui I would again, my Brother, request you to 
accept this right hand, not in compliance with the di- 
rection of my fathers and brethren, who have assisted 
in your ordination, simply, but as expressive of my own 
personal interest in the transactions of this day. 

With devout thankfulness would I recognize the 
hand of God in preparing the way for the establish- 
ment of one of Andovtr 1 * sons, in this section of the 
' Ps heriti 

Greatly would I rejoice that the Lord is directing 
titute churches to apply to that School of the Pro- 
phets, for pastors to break to them the bread of life. 
Greatly would I rejoice that the Lord has directed 
this church to make such application ; and that you, my 
Brother, have been designated to fill this important 
station. 

With no ordinary feelings, be assured, do I discharge 
the dutv assigned me, of welcoming you hither as a 
minister of Jesus. May the flame of Christian be- 
nevolence, enkindled in that sacred seminary, whose 
inestimable privileges you have been permitted to en- 
joy, never decline till you are prepared to adopt the 
triumphant language of the great Apostle — "I have 
fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have 



30 

kept the faith* and henceforth there is laid up for me 
a crown of glory." Yet permit me to remind you 
(without dampening the ardour of your feelings) that 
you are entering the Lord's vineyard at a time, when 
the Christian minister must expect trials. Indeed, the 
business, to which you have set your hand, and we 
trust, your heart, has always been attended with trials : 
but various circumstances seem now to indicate, that 
trials of no ordinary kind await those, who faithfully 
advocate the cause of truth. Errour is abroad in the 
earth ; its advocates are numerous, if not powerful; and 
with us, who have espoused the cause of truth, it be- 
comes a question, involving momentous consequences, 
whether we shall give up the contest, yield the points 
in debate, and throw away the very essence of the 
Bible, or endeavour, to the best of our abilities, to de- 
fend, support, and establish the fundamental doctrines 
of revelation. 

The former, /cannot do. The latter, in conjunction 
w T ith your fathers and brethren, I trust you will zeal- 
ously attempt. 

But I again remind you that, in doing this, you must 
anticipate trials. You must expect to meet with op- 
position — with opposition that will, at times, try your 
faith, your patience, your prudence, and your every 
Christian grace. Yet, be not disheartened. The 
Lord is on your side. The cause of truth will pre- 
vail. Wield, skilfully, the weapons of the Christian 
warfare, and you have nothing to fear. 

May the good Lord guide you, my dear Brother, 
and bless you, and give you to see great things in 
Nantucket. Great things will, unquestionably, be 



31 

done here in time; and may your eyes see them; mav 
your labours and prayers help them forward. 

After the part we have taken in the transactions of 
this day, God forbid that we should forget your insu- 
lated situation, or cease to pray unto Him, who walk- 
eth in the midst of the seven golden candlesticks, that 
he would afford you much of his promised presence, 
assistance and direction ; that he would succeed all 
your ministerial labours ; enrich you more and more 
with the gifts and graces of his Spirit; and make you 
the honoured instrument of turning many to righteous- 
ness, who shall, one day, shine as the brightness of the 
firmament, and as the stars forever, in the kingdom of 
God's glory. 

The members of this church and society, on whose 
account we are now assembled, will accept our united 
and most cordial congratulations. 

With devout thankfulness to God would we bow 
the knee before him, and abundantly utter the memo- 
ry of his great goodness, in that he hath remembered 
you in your destitute state, and, as we would humbly 
hope, provided you a pastor after his own heart. — 
You need not be told, that we are highly gratified in 
the choice which you have made, and in the commenda- 
ble spirit of unanimity, harmony and love, which have 
apparently marked your proceedings in this great con- 
cern. No less gratified are we in being permitted to 
contemplate with you the encouraging prospects, which 
this solemn and auspicious day opens to your view. 

You have now, my brethren and friends of this 
church and society, beheld the man of your choice, in 
solemn form, by prayer and the imposition of hands, 



32 

set over you, as } T our pastor and teacher. Receive him* 
therefore, with all humility and gratitude. Receive 
him as a precious gift from Him, who is head over all 
things to the church. Receive him as an ambassador 
for Christ, who, in his name, is to pray you to become 
reconciled to God ; to deliver to you the messages of 
eternal truth, and to guide, assist and cheer you on 
your way to immortal glory. May the endearing re- 
lation, this day consummated, between you and him, 
long be continued a source of permanent blessedness 
to both parties. May mutual affection be regarded as 
the most substantial evidence of success attending the 
labours of him, whom you will henceforth denominate 
your beloved pastor. — Long, very long, may you and 
your children rejoice in the light of his doctrinej and 
cherish an increased disposition to esteem him very 
highly in love for his work's sake. 

And when all earthly connections shall be dissolved, 
may you and he, may each and all of us, be so unspeak- 
ably happy as to have an open and an abundant en- 
trance ministered unto us into the everlasting king- 
dom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. — Amen. 



god's ways, not as our ways. 



lfiU<DIT» 



OCCASIONED 



25p tfte ©eatJj 



REV. SAMUEL WORCESTER, D. D. 

SENIOR TASTOB OF THE TABERNACLE CHURCH, FS 8ALXM, MASS. 



BY ELIAS CORNELIUS, A. M, 

SURVIVING PASTOR. 



SALEM: 

PUBLISHED BY HENRY WHIPPLE. 
1821. 



1 



§I3IBm®S5 



ISAIAH lv. 9. 

For as the Heavens are higher than the Earth, 
so are my ways higher than your ways, and my 
thoughts than your thoughts. 

The human mind often betrays its weakness, 
in the limited conceptions which it forms of the char- 
acter and government of God. So adverse to our 
ivi-hcs, as well as contrary to our expectations, are 
the events which are sometimes brought to pass in 
the course of Divine Providence, that we even dare 
to question the wisdom and goodness of their author. 
The end which the Sovereign Disposer has in view, 
is kept out of sight ; the means by which his purpo- 
ses are to be accomplished are of course unexplain- 
ed ; and the consequence is, that the mind, unless it 
be sustained by an unwavering faith in the moral per* 
fections of God, sinks into a disbelief of the recti- 
tude of his administration. 

But even where this is not the fact ; — where the 
heart reposes with a high degree of confidence in the 
wisdom and goodness of God, the views which the 
mind forms of the extent of his government, and of 
his natural and moral perfections, fall immeasurably 
below 7 a just estimate. On this point, the concep- 
- of the wisest and best men are poor and faint ; 



4 

their utmost reach of thought extends but a little 
way; and their largest powers of comprehension 
grasp but a small part of the immense and eternal 
plan, by which God governs the Universe. Hence 
arises the amazing difference which exists, between 
our views-and opinions, and those of the Infinite MindV 
as unfolded in Providence : — a fact, which is no where 
described in clearer or more sublime language, than 
in the text* 

From the context, we learn that the words were 
originally addressed to the backsliding Jews. Prom- 
ises of abundant mercy were held out to all who 
would return, and their repentance and reformation 
enforced by the most affecting views of the divine 
character. "Seek ye the Lord while he may be 
found. Call ye upon him while he is near. Let the 
wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man 
his thoughts, and let him return unto the Lord, for 
he will have mercy upon him ; and to our God, for 
he will abundantly pardon," 

Such ample assurances of forgiveness, to persons 
so unworthy, might seem almost incredible. But they 
were reminded that the divine conduct was in this, 
as well as every other respect, infinitely above their 
conceptions ; and might therefore lead to results 
widely different from their expectations. "For my 
thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your 
ways my ways, saith the Lord." From this declara- 
tion, referring to a particular part of the divine ad- 
ministration, and applying perhaps with more pro- 
priety, in its original connexion, to the immeasurable 
distance which exists, between God's moral character 



and that of his sinful creatures, — our text is derived ; 
and contains a sentiment, which easily accommodates 
itself to the divine government at large. 

For as the Heavens are higher than the Earth, 
so are my ways higher than your ways, and my 
thoughts than your thoughts. 

What a solemn, and affecting illustration, have we, 
my brethren, of the truth of these words, in the mel- 
ancholy event, which has clothed this house of God 
in mourning, and filled our hearts with grief! In 
looking over the sacred volume for some passage on 
which my mind might rest, for consolation and sup- 
port, I have been led to indulge in frequent medita- 
tions upon this text. The sentiment which it con- 
veys is full of instruction, and calculated to reconcile 
the pious mind to the Providence of God, however 
mysterious in its operations, or overwhelming in its 
effects. 

It has fallen to our lot to part with a most 
valued and endeared friend. Our venerated In- 
structor, Pastor, and Guide, is gone ! He has been 
taken away in the meridian of life, and in the midst 
of his usefulness. Our hearts melt, and our spirits 
sink, while we estimate the loss, which we and the 
church of God have sustained. But do we repine ; 
and while we think how entirely God has frus- 
trated our plans, and blighted our hopes, by this 
event, find it difficult to reconcile it with our con- 
ceptions of his wisdom and goodness? Methinks, 
I hear a voice from above, — saying, "My thoughts 
are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, 
saith the Lord. For as the Heavens are higher 






THAN THE EaRTH, SO ARE MY WAYS HIGHER THAN YOUR 
WAYS, AND MY THOUGHTS THAN YOUR THOUGHTS." 

In reflecting upon these words, we are naturally 
led to consider the Governour of the Universe, as 
acting according to an established plan, the full com- 
prehension of which infinitely transcends the powers 
of created intelligences. 

In illustrating this sentiment, with reference to the 
present occasion, I propose 

First, To establish the fact, that God has a plan 
according to which he governs the Universe. 

Secondly, To show in what respects the opera- 
tions of that plan necessarily transcend 1 our concep- 
tions ; and to prove that they are of such a nature 
as to deserve our implicit confidence. 

First. God has a plan of government, according 
to the provisions of which, all beings exist, and all 
events come to pass. The proof of this fact is de- 
rived from the perfections of the divine nature, and 
the obvious declarations of Scripture. 

It agrees with all our ideas of the infinite under- 
standing and knowledge of God, that he should be 
able to devise a system of action, as extensive in its 
application, as the objects which are presented to 
his view. It is an obvious conclusion from his wis- 
dom and benevolence, that such a system should be 
the best which could be devised ; and if so, infinitely 
desirable to the divine mind. To these considera- 
tions we need only add, that God is a Being of Al- 
mighty power, in order to assure our minds that 






whatever plan he chooses to adopt, will be certainly 
accomplished. 

To this statement, the sacred oracles lend their 
entire support. " Our God," says the Psalmist, "is 
in the Heavens. He hath done whatsoever he hath 
pleased." To the prophet Isaiah, Jehovah himself 
declares, "I am God, and there is none else : — I am 
God and there is none like me ; — Declaring the end 
from the beginning, and from ancient times the things 
that are not yet done; saying, my counsel shall stand, 
and I will do all my pleasure." In a still more posi- 
tive and general manner, St. Paul, speaking of the 
fion of those who believe in Christ — says, "In 
whom also we have obtained an inheritance, being 
pr e de s tinated according to the purpose of him, — who 
workcth all things after the counsel of his own in//." 
Accordingly, we find the scriptures ascribing innu- 
merable events both of a natural and moral kind, to 
the immediate agency, or superintending Providence, 
of God. Such is the fact, with regard to those ca- 
tastrophes of nature by which the world has been 
shaken, and its inhabitants swept into eternity. Such 
have been the famines, pestilences, and the long train 
of diseases, by which the life of man has been af- 
flicted and shortened. Such have been those great 
mural events, which have overturned empires — de- 
molished kingdoms — and filled the earth with ruin; — 
while such, on the other hand, have been those events 
which have contributed to the prosperity of nations; 
the blessings which have distinguished particular 
communities and individuals, — and whatever causes 
have conspired to make men useful and happy. 



8 

Such, in a preeminent sense, I should add, is the 
work of Redemption represented to be, from its 
commencement to its close. All the circumstances 
connected with the history of its Author — the time 
and manner of his advent — the incidents of his life — 
his sufferings and death, were ordered according to 
the "determinate counsel and foreknowledge of God." 
It is upon this ground we are taught to regard them, 
as having flowed from the wisdom and love of God, 
and to cherish correspondent feelings respecting them. 
From the same general principle, we learn also to 
refer every other event in Providence to God's di- 
recting and overruling hand. When death invades 
the domestic circle, and tears from our hearts the 
friends whom we love — when he marks out for his 
victim some distinguished member of society, whose 
influence and counsels have swayed the destinies of a 
community — or when it is the endeared and faithful 
Pastor, whose life is bound up in the hearts of an 
affectionate and grateful people ; we submit to the 
stroke, because God has inflicted it : — and say, in the 
language of inspiration, " His days are determined ; 
the number of his months are with Thee ; Thou hast 
appointed his bound that he cannot pass." "I was 
dumb ; I opened not my mouth, because Thou didst 
it." But, 

Secondly, How inscrutable are the ways of God ! 
To minds like ours, they often appear impenetrably 
dark and mysterious : not only above our compre- 
hension, but opposed to our strongest wishes and 
most confident expectations. Still, however, they 
claim our confidence, as the result of unerring wis- 



dom and everlasting love. If we cannot compre- 
hend them, it is not for want of substantial reasons 
to support them in the Divine Mind, but because they 
form a part of a plan, whose operations as much 
transcend our conceptions, as the Heavens are higher 
than the Earth. To show in what respects, these 
operations necessarily surpass our conceptions, and to 
prove that they are of such a nature as to demand 
our implicit confidence, is the object, to which, under 
this head of discourse, it was proposed to call your 
attention. 

It is admitted that the circumstances under which 
the Divine Being acts, are so complicated and vari- 
ous, that no mind but the Eternal, can fully compre- 
hend them. At the same time, it is believed, that 
certain prominent facts are revealed relative to the 
divine government, which if considered, can hardly 
fail to impress the mind with the conviction, that 
God's ways are immeasurably higher than our ways, 
and may, therefore, lead to results, widely different 
from our expectations. Two of these facts I will 
mention. 

1. God acts for the Universe. In the adminis- 
tration of his government, he has respect to the whole 
of his intelligent creation. The unnumbered worlds 
which he has made, claim each a share in his affec- 
tion and support; and not one of them is overlooked 
in the dispensations of his Providence. He beholds 
them all, and from the never-failing fountain of his 
paternal kindness, pours forth perpetual streams to 
supply their wants. 

But what is more obvious, than that if God acts 



10 

ki this way for all worlds, with all the untold myri- 
ads of their inhabitants, his thoughts and ways must 
of necessity be infinitely higher than ours ? What 
mind but his own, can fully comprehend the number 
of his works ; much less understand how to balance 
all their interests, or estimate the full effect of even 
one movement in creation, as it shall be felt by one 
part, or the whole of this vast dominion ? What, 
then, must it be, to ascertain and adjust the minutest, 
as well as the largest concerns, of each and of all the 
beings who inhabit the empire of God, so that their 
individual and collective influence shall finally produce 
the greatest amount of good ? Yet this is the end, 
towards which the energies of the Almighty are un- 
ceasingly directed. And shall creatures of a day, 
who know comparatively nothing, dictate to him, 
what course he shall pursue, to secure its accom- 
plishment ? If, in those infinitely lower spheres of 
action, where one man is entrusted with the interests 
of many, it becomes difficult for those who have not 
the means of forming a comprehensive judgment, t# 
reconcile their views of private interest, with the 
course which the public good demands ; can it be 
matter of surprise, that the Infinite Jehovah, in march- 
ing to those great results which concern the good of 
the Universe, should sometimes travel out of our way, 
and direct the course of his Providence, beyond the 
reach of our short-sighted vision ? What if, in ful- 
filling the purposes of his wisdom, he should think 
proper to defeat our plans, and disappoint our 
hopes — does it hence follow, that our ways are more 
perfect than his? 



II 

■" One part, one little part, we dimly scan, 
■* Through the dark medium of life's feverish dream > 
■ Yet dare arraign the whole stupendous plan, 
•'If but that little part incongruous seem." 

Is it not, then, becoming — is it not just, that we 
should hold our peace, Avhen God proclaims his will 
concerning any one of his creatures; and that we 
be deeply sensible of our own impotence, before we 
undertake to scan his works, or sit in judgment over 
his conduct ? 

2. God acts for Eternity. This is the other 
fact relating to the divine government, which I would 
mention in this connexion. And I know not what 
consideration can impress the mind with the convic- 
tion, that God's ways are necessarily and incalculably 
higher than our ways, if it be not the fact of their 
eternal destination. Nothing, surely, would create a 
greater difference in the opinions and conduct of two 
human beings, who should undertake to decide what 
would be most for their final happiness, than the view 
they might take of the duration of their existence. 
To him who looked no farther than the close of his 
earthly probation, it might seem rational enough, to 
spend life in gratifying the appetites of the body, and 
pursuing the round of pleasures which a fleeting 
world affords ; — while to him whose eye was fixed 
upon a future and eternal state, the same conduct 
would appear little short of madness. If, then, a 
difference of view respecting their future destination^ 
necessarily produces, among men, so great a differ- 
ence in opinion and conduct, why should not the infi- 
nitely wider difference which exists, between our 



12 

views of eternity, and those which God takes of it, 
render his ways and thoughts, not only higher than 
ours, but immeasurably unlike them ; — and unlike 
what they would be, if he consulted only our tempo- 
ral good. 

But if God has formed men for eternity, then, to 
give such a direction to his Providence, as shall ulti- 
mately promote the highest interests of that state, is 
no less a proof of his wisdom, than it is of his benev- 
olence. Nor does it alter at all, in his view, the re- 
ality of those interests, nor the supreme importance 
of taking measures to promote them, that those whom 
they concern, do not always perceive them, or are not 
disposed to regard them with the attention which 
they deserve. The child is not less in danger, who 
is sporting on the brink of a precipice, because he is 
wholly ignorant of his situation ; nor is the parent 
less kind for rescuing him, though he do it in opposi- 
tion to all his entreaties to remain where he is. Let 
him have time to discover the dangers from which 
he has escaped, and he will requite the friend who 
delivered him, with the warmest gratitude of his 
heart. With infinitely more reason shall we, my 
brethren, if we trust in God, look back in eternity, 
upon some of the darkest and most distressing occur- 
rences of our earthly pilgrimage, and bless the hand 
which chastised us with its severest strokes, and dealt 
out to us the most bitter ingredients in the cup of 
sorrow. 

What man will undertake to say, that the Al- 
mighty may not be promoting, in the most direct and 
effectual manner, the highest good of his creatures. 



13 

at the moment when his Providence is spreading its 
heaviest clouds over their present prospects ? Be it 
so, that in accomplishing this result, a thousand ten- 
der ties are broken; the most endearing relations 
dissolved ; and the whole train of events with which 
their influence was connected, left to move on without 
them, — it is only a momentary breach, which, how- 
ever much it may appear a disruption to us, will 
be found at last, to have been only a connecting link 
in the mysterious chain of Providence. 

"What I do," said our Saviour to one of his disci- 
ples, "thou knowcst not now, but thou shalt know 
hereafter." Little did the Patriarch of Israel imagine, 
when, rcpiningly he said, "All these things are against 
me ;" that they were so eminently for him ; — that 
the system of Providence, which he deplored as most 
portentous in its aspect, was a cloud big with bless- 
ings to him and his posterity ; and that, having dis- 
charged its contents, it would suddenly disappear, and 
leave the sun of prosperity to shed its mildest beam* 
on the evening of his days. Still less, did the discon- 
solate disciples of Jesus think, when their Master w T as 
torn from them, and hurried to the cross, that the 
event which annihilated their hopes of an earthly 
kingdom, was to accomplish the real object for which 
he descended from above. "We trusted," said two 
of them, as they journeyed to Emmaus, "that it had 
"been he, which should have redeemed Israel." Lit- 
tle did they then suspect, that the death of Jesus 
had, in fact, accomplished the redemption of Israel, 
in its highest and best sense ; — that in proof of it, their 
Lord had already risen from the grave, and was even 



14 

then conversing with them, and endeavouring to rea* 
son them out of their unbelieving despondency. Was 
ever Providence so dark ? — Was ever Providence so 
benignant ? 

But suppose the world had no experience on this 
subject. Are not the moral perfections of God, as 
revealed in the Bible, enough to awaken our confi- 
dence ? Do not his wisdom and knowledge, his holi- 
ness and justice, his goodness and truth, afford suffi- 
cient security for the rectitude of his administration? 
Do they not render it certain, that he will do nothing, 
which is not in the highest degree worthy of his 
character, — infinitely conducive to his own glory, and 
the good of his intelligent kingdom ? The course he 
may take to accomplish these results, may be as far 
above our comprehension, as the Heavens are above 
the Earth ; but it will be only in the duration and ex- 
tent of its blessings. 

Cease, then, our murmuring thoughts. Our Heav- 
enly Father knows infinitely better than we do, what 
system of Providence will contribute most, to our 
present and future good. With him, we maycheer T 
fully, as well as safely, leave ourselves, and our friends, 
with all which concerns them and us, for time and 
eternity. 

Surely, my brethren, these are considerations 
which impart consolation to us, under our present be- 
reavement. The dispensation of Providence, which 
we have been called to experience, is, indeed, dark 
and mysterious. But will it not lighten our burden, 
and alleviate our sorrows, to remember, that all our 
afflictions are of God's appointment ? That the 



u 

Stroke, which has severed from us, an endeared and 
venerated Pastor, is inflicted bj a Father's hand ; and 
forms a necessary part of a great and good system* 
by which he is seeking to accomplish the final happi- 
ness of his chosen people ? 

It was to fulfil an important end, in the scheme of 
Providence, that our Pastor was raised up, and endow- 
ed with those moral and intellectual qualities, which 
fitted him for extensive usefulness in the world. It 
is to fulfil another, and a still more important end, in 
the same plan of Providence, that he has been called 
to another world. There, we trust, he lives, and with 
augmented powers, devotes his unwearied labours to 
the service and glory of his God and Redeemer. 
Why, then, should we murmur? He is not lost to 
God — though for a time, he may seem lost to us. 
And who is it, that has called him to another field 
•(' labour, but he who in mercy first gave him to us, 
and to the church on earth. Yes, — and let the excla- 
mation fill our hearts with gratitude, — "The Lord 
gave, and the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the 
name of the Lord/' "Though clouds and darkness 
are round about him, righteousness and judgment are 
the habitation of his throne." "He will not always 
chide, neither will he keep his anger forever." "For 
he doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children 
of men." 

But great and precious as are these assurances of 
the word of God, it will not — it cannot be concealed, 
that the loss we have sustained, is one of no ordinary 
magnitude. I confess, when I look around, and sur- 
vey the deep and mighty chasm which it has produ- 



10 

ced, not only in this church and region, but in the> 
christian world, I cannot help exclaiming — "O daugh- 
ter of Jerusalem ! What shall I equal to thee, that 
I may comfort thee, O virgin daughter of Zion ? For 
thy breach is great like the sea, who can heal thee?" 

The death of Dr. Worcester, is an event, which 
every friend of God and man may sincerely deplore. 
Such were his qualifications for usefulness, such the 
steady and well-directed zeal, with which he devoted 
himself to the good of mankind, that it was impossible 
his life should not have become an invaluable bless- 
ing — as his death has proved to be a general loss. 

I need not trace those relations, by which a con- 
nexion so extensive was held, and an influence so pow- 
erful was exerted. They are familiar to your minds. 
They have recently been exhibited in an interesting 
and powerful manner. None who were present on 
the mournful day consecrated to his memory, will 
soon forget either their nature or importance.* 

It was, preeminently, his connexion with that grand 
enterprise .of Christian benevolence, which is seeking 
to extend the knowledge of salvation to the ends of 
the earth, and which, in a most important sphere he 
conducted with so much energy and success, that 
gave him a strong hold of the affections and confidence 
of the Christian community. It was this, which awa- 
kened a general sympathy and concern, when his ex- 
hausted frame began to sink under the pressure of 

*It may be proper to state, that the present discourse was delivered in 
the Tabernacle church, on Sabbalh, July 15 — a few days after another Ser- 
mon had been preached by the Rev. Dr Woods, in commemoration of the 
public character and services of Dr. Wobcesteb. 



17 

accumulated duties, and it became necessary for him 
to leave his family* his people, and his home, for the 
perils of the sea and the wilderness. A thousand ten- 
der wishes followed him ; a thousand prayers went 
up to Heaven for him. But he had finished his 
course, and the time of his departure was at hand. 

Seldom has the public grief been more general, on 
the death of one -man — never more sincere or more 
deep, of) the part of those who love Zion> and prefer 
her prosperity above their chief joy. 

But I forbear to dwell upon the more public char- 
acter and services of your lamented Pastor, — not on- 
ly, because it has already been done with great effect, 
but because there is another, and to you, I am per- 
suaded, not less endearing character, in which he de- 
serves to be remembered ; — and that is, the relation 
which he held to you, as your Pastor, and to his be- 
reaved relatives, as a Husband, Father, and Friend. 

Before, however, describing his character minute- 
ly, in either of these relations, it will be useful and 
proper, to take a connected view of the principal in- 
cidents in his life, from its commencement to its close. 

Your Pastor was born at Hollis, in New Hamp- 
shire, Nov. 1, 1771. His father, who was a respecta- 
ble fanner of that town, was descended from the Rev. 
Thomas Worcester, who was the first minister of Salis- 
bury, in this State, and who settled there in the year 
1(>3<).* 

When only twenty months old, he had the misfor- 
tune to lose his mother, who is said to have been 
highly distinguished for her piety and good sense. 
During his infancy, he suffered much from sickness, 

♦See Note At. 

3 



18 

and in one instance, was brought so low that his life 
was entirely despaired of. But that God who had 
destined him to important services in the church, 
watched over his cradle, and at length raised him to 
health and strength. 

While a youth, his time was occupied at home, 
without any remarkable occurrences, except that he 
frequently discovered in his conduct, the same cool- 
ness and deliberation of plan, the same patience of 
application, which, in. after life, so strongly marked 
his character.* 

As he grew up, he became devoted to active and 
laborious pursuits upon his father's farm. Being 
blest with a strong constitution, and having naturally 
a disposition to excel in every thing he undertook, his 
services became so important, that his father resolved 
to make him his chief dependance in the management 
of his domestic concerns; and consequently, devoted 
him to this mode of life, as his future employment. 

At the age of sixteen, during one of those seasons 
of the gracious outpourings of the Holy Spirit, which 
have so often visited New England, and conferred orr 
her churches the richest and most durable blessings, 
his mind became impressed with the importance of 
his spiritual and eternal interests. After a period of 
six months of anxious enquiry, he began to cherish a 
trembling hope that he had "passed from death unto 
hfe." His feelings during this time, had nothing in 
them peculiarly extraordinary. "It was," to use the 
language of an elder brother,! whose mind was im~ 

* See Note B. 

fcTheRev. Thomas Worcester, settled at Salisbury, N. H, 






19 

pressed at the same time, "apparently by a still smafi 
voice that he was led to see, that he was entirely 
without the love of God in him, and to feel his de pen- 
dance on the free grace of God for regeneration, par- 
don and eternal life, and brought to receive Christ 
Jesus the Lord, as his chosen and beloved Saviour." 
He still, however, had many doubts ; and his fear of 
being deceived was such, that he could not prevail 
on himself to make a public profession of religion till 
<come years after. 

Most persons, whose early life is devoted to the 
cares and labours of agricultural employments, find 
but little time, and have still less disposition, for im- 
proving the mind. It was not so, however, with him. 
He was extremely fond of reading ; and found suffi- 
cient leisure to make himself master of the most im- 
portant books within his reach. His attainments in 
the ordinary branches of knowledge became so re- 
spectable, that he was soon charged, though a youth, 
with the instruction of a town school in his father's 
neighbourhood. To this employment he applied 
himself, during the recess of his more severe labours 
in the held, with great advantage to himself, and his 
pupils. Particularly did he manifest that rare talent 
for discipline, that happy ascendancy over his own 
passions and feelings, and those of others, which in 
his maturcr years, gave him such a decided advantage, 
in the moment of trial, over almost every other man.* 

It was during one of these periods of instruction, 
that his attention became directed to the subject oi 
obtaining a liberal education. A friend, who was al- 

* See Note C, 



20 

so engaged in the business of instructing youth, and 
who has now for many years, filled an important sta- 
tion in one of our most valuable seminaries of learn- 
ing, was at that time living in his father's family. It 
was impossible for him not to perceive the talents of 
young Worcester, and perceiving them, not to desire 
that he might have an opportunity of improving them 
for the benefit of mankind. He entreated his father 
to give his son a classical education — and urged the 
subject upon the attention of his young friend. 

But the course of life to which his father had devo- 
ted him, was already settled, and he could not now de- 
part from it ; especially, as it would deprive him in his 
declining years of the society of a favourite son, and 
one in whose efficiency he placed so much confidence. 
Such, however, was the thirst for knowledge which 
his son felt ; such the advantages which he perceived 
would result from receiving a liberal education, that 
he could not be denied a gratification so dear to his 
heart. With all due regard for a parent's wishes, 
and a parent's feelings, he felt it his duty to make the 
attempt. Accordingly, on leaving his school, in the 
spring of 1790, when he was a little past his nine- 
teenth year, he began a course of preparatory studies. 
It was, certainly, some presage of his future char- 
acter, that he should at that period of life, under cir- 
cumstances so trying, and without the means for de- 
fraying the most necessary expences of an education, 
form the resolution to enter upon a long course of 
study, when he knew not to what difficulties and em- 
barrassments it might subject him. But his mind, 



, 



21 

which in after life so seldom missed its aim, had made 
up its judgment, and was not to be diverted by anv 
obstacles. He commenced his studies, and such was 
the rapid progress which he made, that in less than 
a year, his preceptor had no hesitancy in offering him 
for admission into Dartmouth College, where he en- 
tered with credit, a class which had already advanced 
six months in its Freshman year. 

Here, he rose to a distinguished rank as a scholar, 
notwithstanding his limited means of support obliged 
him often to leave his studies, and spend month? 
in the business of teaching school. 

It was while he was a member of College, and du- 
ring a winter season employed in the care of a school, 
in Salisbury, New Hampshire, that his attention was 
called anew to the importance of making a profession 
of religion. There had been a considerable revival 
in the place, the summer and autumn preceding, "in 
view of the fruits of which," says his brother, 
who was already settled there, "his heart was 
warmed, and he obtained such additional evidence of 
his vital union to Christ, and such a deep sense of the 
great importance of such duty, that he could no longer 
refrain from owning Christ before men." According- 
ly, he offered himself for examination, and with a 
number of others, united with the church on the 18th 
day of February, 1793. His relation to this church 
continued, with great satisfaction to the serious and 
good people of the place, until the time of his ordi- 
nation. 

In the autumn of 1795, he finished his academical 
course, and left College with distinguished honour, 



22 

■being appointed to deliver the Valedictory Oration 
on the day of Commencement. 

From this period, he turned all his thoughts 
to the ministry ; devoting what time he could 
from the necessary avocations of an Instructor of 
of an Academy, in preparing for the duties of the sa- 
cred office. In about one year from the time of leav- 
ing College, he was licensed to preach; and not long 
after, received a call to settle in the ministry at Fitch- 
burgh, in this state. 

Here, he was ordained in Sept 1797. The five 
following years of his life were spent in performing 
the duties of a Pastor, amid various scenes of trial 
and success. It pleased God, soon after his settlement, 
to grant him the satisfaction of witnessing an ex- 
tensive revival of religion among his people ; the 
effects of which contributed much to the promo- 
tion of evangelical religion in the place. But they 
did not eradicate those seeds of error, which he 
perceived had long been sown among his flock. 
These sprang up with increasing vigour, and gave 
rise, three years after his settlement, to the publica- 
tion of a small volume of sermons, in which the doc- 
trine of Future Punishment is stated and defended, m 
a manner peculiarly calculated to convince the seri- 
ous and candid mind. 

There were those, however, who could not endure 
his sound doctrine, nor the plain and pungent appli- 
cation which he made of it to the conscience and the 
heart. Difficulties were started, and as is usual in 
such cases, urged with persevering assiduity, until it 
*yas judged expedient that his pastoral relation should 



23 

be dissolved. The transactions which led to this re- 
sult, are contained in a small pamphlet, prepared by 
himself, and published at the request of his church. 
On some accounts, it is one of the most valuable of 
all his publications. It not only exhibits the leading 
traits of his character, elicited under circumstances 
peculiarly calculated to call them forth; but it con- 
tains a discussion of some of the most important prin- 
ciples of Congregational church government — and 
although written in the early part of his ministry 
shows sufficiently well, that the foundation was al- 
ready laid, for all that preeminence to which he af- 
terward attained, on the subject of ecclesiastical gov- 
ernment, and the order of churches. 

On the 29th of August, 1802, he delivered a sol- 
emn and impressive sermon to his church and peo- 
ple, which was the close of his ministerial labours in 
Fitchburg. By a unanimous vote of the church, who 
had remained stedfastly attached to him during the 
whole of his conflict, the sermon was published, and 
will long remain, a memorial worthy of its author. 

The same month in which he left Fitchburg, the 
pastoral office in this church and society having be- 
come vacant, by the dismissal of the Rev. Mr. Spal- 
ding, Mr. Worcester was invited to supply the desk. 
His preaching, as many now present well remember, 
was heard with great satisfaction. On the 23d of 
November following, the Church made choice of him 
tor their Pastor, and having received the unanimous 
concurrence of the Proprietors of the House, pre- 
sented him with a call to settle among them in th#~ 
ministry. 



•24 

About the game time, the first church and society" 
in Rowley, in this vicinity, being destitute of a Pastor, 
and having had opportunity to hear Mr. Worcester 
for a few sabbaths, presented him with a similar call. 
In making up his mind, which invitation to accept, he 
was governed by what he thought to be the will of 
Providence, and finally decided in favour of this 
church and society. Here he was installed, Pastor, 
on the 20th day of April, 1803, at which time he was 
in the 33d year of his age. 

Having already had five years experience in the 
ministry as Pastor of a church, and being endowed 
with distinguished moral and intellectual qualifications 
for his work, it was to be supposed he would enter 
upon the duties of his office with many advantages. 
Nor were the expectations of his people disappoint- 
ed. Every year they saw more and more evidence 
of his superior attainments, and felt more and more 
satisfaction in his labours. ■ 

As a proof of the high character which he already 
sustained in the public eye, his people were called, 
at an early period of his residence among them, to 
contemplate his probable removal to another situa- 
tion. The Trustees of Dartmouth College, finding it 
necessary to fill the Theological Chair in that Insti- 
tution, placed their hopes upon Mr. Worcester; 
and made choice of him for that purpose, in June, 
i804. Never did a man act with a more conscien- 
tious regard to the will of God, than your Pastor, in 
declining this invitation. In a conversation held with 
him, but a few weeks previous to his final departure 
from us. the speaker well recollects his referring to 



m 

this instance in his history, as illustrating a princi- 
ple which, he said, had ever been the rule of his con- 
duct. "I cast myself," said he, "upon Providence; 
leaving it to the Council, who were called upon the 
©ccasion, to say, after receiving all the light which 
could be thrown upon the subject, whether I should 
go, or whether I should remain. And having left it 
there,*' he added "I know not that I felt the least 
anxiety for the result, either before, or after it was 
made known." 

From this time, no event of consequence occurred 
to divide his attention, or interrupt his labours among 
his people, except what was incident to his growing 
reputation and the occasional demands of other 
churches, until the year 1810; when the American 
Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions was 
formed, and he was appointed its Corresponding Sec- 
retary.* 

Little did he imagine, when he consented to accept 
©f this appointment, that the duties of it were so soon 
to swallow up his time and strength, and were yet to 
constitute by far the most important feature in the his- 
tory of his life. Of this fact, one of his late letters to 
the Treasurer of the Board, affords the most satisfac- 
tory proof. "But what individual," says he, "who took 
part in those inchoative deliberations and proceed- 
ings, had any adequate anticipations of the magnitude 
and importance to which in ten years they would 
grow?"t Could he have foreseen the accumula- 
ted duties, which, in addition to the concerns of a 

*Mr. Worcester received the honorary degree of D. D. from Nasaaa 
Hall, in New Jersey, Sept. 1811. 
tMisfionarv Herald 1821, p 190. 

4 



at 

numerous parish, this appointment would bring up- 
*>n him, there is no reason to conclude he would 
have consented to accept it, without some new ar- 
rangement, by which his parochial burdens should 
have been lightened. 

But he entered upon that office, and retained it, 
even after its duties had become so great, as necessa- 
rily to turn his attention in a degree, from the more 
immediate engagements of the pastoral office, in the 
same spirit, and for the same reasons, which had al- 
ways influenced his conduct He believed that God 
had called him to take a part, in the great and grow- 
ing work of evangelizing the Heathen. Like every 
good man, and conscientious christian, he felt it hi$ 
duty to do something. What part he should take, or 
what proportion of personal services he should ren- 
der, he did not undertake to determine. He left that 
"with Providence. When, therefore, it pleased God 
to smile so benignantly on his labours, and those of 
his associates in the blessed cause, and to throw sa 
large a proportion of its cares upon him, he could 
not tear himself from them, without doing violence to 
his conscience, and disregarding the plainest dictates 
of Providence. 

At the meeting of the Board in 1817, it w r as dis- 
tinctly stated by him, that the double duties which his- 
situation imposed, were too arduous for him any longer 
to discharge, without assistance ; and that, unless some 
new r arrangement could be made, he should find it ne- 
cessary to resign the Secretary's office. Such, how- 
ever, were the embarrassments with which the sub- 
ject was attended, that it was not till near the 



27 

close of the ensuing year, that he saw any prospect 
of a diminution of his labours. At that period, the 
Prudential Commitee made application to the church 
for the relinquishment of three fourths of his time* 
to be devoted to the Missionary cause. The result 
I need not relate. You all remember the painful, as 
well as tender scenes, to which it led. It is known 
also, that it was the occasion of the settlement o( 
your present minister, as an associate with Dr. Wor- 
cester, in the pastoral office. 

Thus was completed an arrangement, to which our 
lamented friend had lon^ looked with strong desire. 
It had ever appeared to him, that he could accomplish 
more good, even lor the Missionary cause, by retain- 
ing his pastoral connexion, than by relinquishing it 
altogether ; — while it would give him many facilities 
for benefitting his own church and people, and the 
churches around him, which he could not otherwise 
-enjoy. 

Experience fully proved the correctness of his 
judgment. His labours in the cause of missions were 
never more successful. His people enjoyed his soci- 
ety, in nearly the same degree as before. Indeed, it 
is questionable, whether his usefulness among them 
was ever more sensibly felt, than after this arrange- 
ment was made. At the same time, the good influence 
which he had long exerted in the religious community, 
was not in the least impaired, but rather increased. 
Being in some respects, more free from care, he could, 
with more ease than before, devote a portion of his 
time to those public interests, which were continu- 
al lv pressing upon his attention. 



28 

Happy should we have been, if a connexion so im- 
portant to us, and to others, could have been longer 
preserved. But Infinite Wisdom saw fit to bring it t© 
a speedy termination. For nearly three years before 
the late measures were taken by Dr. Worcester, for 
the recovery of his health, his constitution had begua 
to discover symptoms of decay. To use his own ex- 
pression, — it had lost its former elasticity, and could 
not recover itself so easily from the effects of severe 
labour, or even occasional fatigue. His powers of di- 
gestion were impaired ; a peculiar lethargy gradually 
possessed his frame ; and the tone, both of his muscu- 
lar and nervous systems^ was destroyed. In the hope 
of finding some relief from these complaints, he was 
induced, in the months of October and November 
last, to take an extensive journey. From this, how- 
ever, he returned but little recovered ; and soon 
found it necessary to resort to measures more deci- 
sive. He took counsel of his medical friends, and 
determined on spending the approaching winter in a 
southern climate. 

V r arious hindrances prevented his taking so early a 
departure as he wished. On the last sabbath in De- 
cember, he gave you his parting discourse, from an 
appropriate passage in the 39th Psalm. "For I am but 
a stranger with thee, a sojourner as all my fathers 
were." Many of you then believed, it was the last 
sermon he would ever deliver to you, and felt all the 
tenderness of grief, which could have been produced 
by the certainty, that you should see his face no 
more. 

On tlie 5th of January following, he sailed froorx 



29 

Boston, for New Orleans ; intending on his return, to 
pass through the interior of the country, and visit the 
missionary stations of Elliot and Brainerd — places, 
for the good of which he had long toiled and prayed, 
and which, if Providence saw fit to permit, he ear- 
nestly desired to see. 

His passage to New Orleans was one of the most 
boisterous and dangerous that is ever experienced. 
To his poor, shattered constitution, it had well nigh 
proved fatal. But God was with him. Seldom has 
any one had more spiritual enjoyment, than your be- 
loved Pastor, during his greatest dangers and suffer- 
ings. In a letter written at the time, speaking of 
the probable benefit which he should yet derive from 
the voyage, he says, "However this may be, or what- 
ever the event, I have yet seen only goodness and 
mercy in all I have experienced. In the most dis- 
tressful hours, my pillow was wet with tears — of 
gratitude, I trust, in part ; and I found a sweetness 
not soon to be forgotten, in committing myself and 
dear family, wife and children, severally and to- 
gether — to Him, in whose hand is the sea and the 
dry land — a heart-filling satisfaction in his gracious 
and everlasting covenant." 

On the 3d of February, he arrived at New Orle- 
ans, extremely debilitated. The weather was unu- 
sually inclement, and gave him but few opportunities 
to recruit his strength. He had cherished the hope, 
that he might be able to impart some instruction to 
the destitute thousands in this city, but he now found 
himself unable to deliver a single sermon. The most 
he could do, as he expresses it, was to receive all who 



30 

•came unto him, and speak to them cf the things which 
concern the Lord Jesus Christ. Of this privilege, 
many of the serious and pious inhabitants availed 
themselves, and were edified bj his conversation and 
prayers. 

But it was most of all delightful to see, with what 
intenseness of interest, his thoughts still run upon that 
f^ause, which for years past, had been so dear to his 
heart. Though sinking under a load of bodily infir- 
mities, and too weak to open his mouth in public, he 
resolved once more to be heard in behalf of that 
cause. From the place of his confinement, he accor- 
dingly sent forth, through the press, an appeal to the 
people of New Orleans, and of the State of Louis- 
iana, which, for elevation of thought, tenderness of 
feeling, and elegance cf language, is scarcely inferior 
to any thing of the kind, which he ever wrote. It 
was not without effect. Some of its fruits, he was 
permitted to carry with him to the Heathen, and to 
dispense among them with his own hand. 

On the 10th of March, he took leave of the nume- 
rous friends whose acquaintance he had made in New- 
Orleans, and set his face towards the missionary sta- 
tions in the wilderness. After being detained on the 
way by a severe attack of sickness, and suffering 
much from fatigue, he arrived in the central part of 
the Choctaw tribe, at a place sixty miles distant 
from Elliot, on the 10th of April. Here, while he 
tarried for the arrival of several missionaries, who 
were expected to accompany him to Elliot, he was 
seized with another turn of severe illness, which con- 
fined him for two weeks, and obliged him at length 



3i 

to abandon the hope of ever se-eing that place y 
strongly endeared as it was to his heart The ten- 
der and paternal letter which, on coming to this con- 
clusion, he addressed to the missionaries at Elliot, 
you have already heard. Like every thing else, 
which he wrote during his last illness, it indicated 
a mind last ripening for the Heavenly world. Sub- 
mission, the most cheerful and entire, to all the al- 
lotments of Providence, whatever they might be, 
seems never to have left him for a moment. It was 
especially so in the present instance. In a letter to a 
friend, he says, "Amid various scenes and changes, in- 
firmities and fatigues, I had been cheered with the 
anticipations of refreshment at that consecrated spot: 
but our Hcavenlv Father saw it best that the fondlv 
cherished hope should not be realized. I have not 
seen Elliot. I shall never see that place. I bowed 
to what appeared to me plainly to be the Divine will.' 5 

Though disappointed in not seeing Elliot, Dr. 
Worcester had the satisfaction of meeting all the 
missionaries but one of the Choctaw, and several of 
the Cherokee missions at May hew, a station recently 
formed in the Eastern part of the Choctaw territory, 
and not much out of his way to Brainerd. 

Some idea of his feelings, upon first arriving at a 
missionary station, may be learned from the follow- 
ing extract of a letter, written on the day of his de- 
parture from May hew. After describing his journey 
to that place, which was performed with great fa- 
tigue, he says, *• But at day break the next morning 
I awoke uncommonly refreshed. One of the first 
bounds that struck my ear, was that of the beds oi 



the cattle, horses and cows. To me it was hohuess 
to the Lord. The ground was holy — the Lord's 
plantation — all appertaining w T as holy — sacred to his 
cause. It was a light in a dark place — a fountain in 
the desart — a fruitful field in the wilderness — the 
opening of a glorious millenial scene. — Before sunrise 
I forgot all the fatigues and pains of the way." 

It was certainly no ordinary favour in Providence 
that so many missionaries, from different and distant 
stations, should be brought together at the only time, 
w T hen the strength of Dr. Worcester was such, that 
he could give them the instructions and counsels 
which they desired. In addition to his other labours 
at May hew, he was enabled to assist in organizing a 
church, and to deliver one or two appropriate dis- 
courses. But they were his last labours for the good 
of the Heathen. The few weeks of his life that re- 
mained, were spent under circumstances which ren- 
dered it impossible for him to say or to do much, ex- 
cept what his own wants required. 

As he was about to leave May hew, on a journey 
•f three hundred and fifty miles for Brainerd, he ad- 
dressed a short letter to his family, which concludes 
with the following words. "This place, one of the 
most delightful, certainly, my eyes ever saw, I leave 
this morning with my face towards Brainerd — to- 
wards Salem — and O may I add, towards Heaven ! 
To God, my hope, would I commit my way, my life, 
my family, my all." It was the last message which 
his family ever received from his own hand. 

The following eighteen days were spent in perfor- 
ming his journey to Brainerd. On arriving at this 



33 

place, he was so feeble as to require the aid of two 
men, to assist him into the house. But his soul, says 
one of the missionaries, was in a state of high health 
and prosperity. He was not only willing to end his 
here, if it should be the Divine pleasure, but he 
remarked, "I had rather leave my poor remains at 
Brainerd than at any other place/' 

The tender and solemn scenes which followed, you 
have already heard described. In the bosom of a 
missionary family, whose kind and faithful assiduities 
no ( arthly friends could surpass ; surrounded by those 
"dear children'' of the forest, whose voices, taught, 
in part by his instrumentality, to celebrate the praises 
ot God, now cheered his departing soul, with their 
songs of gratitude ; above all, with a hope in God, which 
ed him of eternal happiness in Heaven, he looked 
forward to his approaching end, with emotions of joy. 
Nor was the period lcng deferred. On the morning 
of Tl . the seventh of June, "at ten minutes be- 

fore seven, a most delightful and heavenly smile pass- 
ed over his countenance — his eyes were immediately 
let — he breathed until one minute before seven, and 
then ceased, without the least struggle or appearance 
•f pain." 

-Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of 
lints.'* — "Yea, saith the Spirit, that they may 
rest from their labours ; and their works do follow 
them." 

On the ninth of June, in the presence of the mis- 
sion family and school, and a large number of the 
natives, some of whom had come from a great distance 
to unite in the solemnity, the mortal remains of oux 
5 



34 

'beloved friend and Pastor were committed to the 
grave, — there to sleep, till that great day when the 
voice of the archangel and the trump of God shall 
awake them to an immortal and glorious life. 

Thus, my brethren, have 1 endeavoured to give 
you a connected view of some of the leading incidents 
in the life and death of your lamented Pastor. It re- 
mains to exhibit the manner in which he performed 
the duties of the pastoral office, and the more private 
relations of life. 

And here I would remark, that as every man's con- 
duct depends ultimately upon his intellectual and 
moral character ; so, in forming an opinion of the 
manner in which your Pastor performed the duties 
of his various offices, it is necessary to understand 
what were the leading features of his mind — and the 
predominant feelings of his heart. 

In regard to his intellectual character, it may be 
said of Dr. Worcester, that he possessed a mind of 
the first order. His perceptions were clear and dis- 
tinct. His judgment was remarkably good ; — form- 
ing its decisions with great deliberation, and upon the 
most substantial grounds. But that, w 7 hich most of 
all, distinguished his intellectual faculties, was the 
strength and comprehensiveness of his reasoning pow- 
ers. He had a prodigious grasp a/mind, by which 
he seemed to lay hold of every subject, and to look 
through it, in its most extensive bearings. If it in- 
volved the consideration of many particulars of dif- 
ferent and opposite kinds, his mind turned with mi- 
nute attention to each, and suspended its judgment 
until it had fully investigated them all. He did not* 



35 

perhaps, think with so much rapidity as some other 
men. But, though his mind was slower in its progress, 
it was surer in its results. Having once gone over a 
subject, he seldom had occasion to retrace his steps, 
or to alter his conclusions. 

When he reflected upon the various and complica- 
ted interests of a community, this faculty enabled him 
to foresee results, and to estimate their influence, 
with a degree of sagacity which few men could rival. 
Or, if his opinions respected the characters and conduct 
of men, as they were likely to be affected by particu- 
lar circumstances, his knowledge of human nature 
gave to his conclusions, equal discernment. It was 
this trait, which, more than any other, qualified him 
to take a leading part in the management of public 
concerns. If he became a principal director in the 
Missionary cause, its operations were distinguished by 
a maturity of design, and a comprehensiveness of 
plan, which adapted them to every exigency, and 
gave them the visible impress of his own mind. 
If he had occasion to lend his assistance in a case of 
ecclesiastical difficulty or dissention, he did it with 
such wisdom and ability as seldom failed to secure a 
favourable issue. In short, whatever w T as the object 
of his attention, if its concerns required prudent man- 
agement and extensive foresight, it was sure to de- 
rive the most important benefit from his counsels. 

But we should form an inadequate idea of Dr. 
Worcester's mind, if we were to stop here. It was 
remarkably complete in all its faculties. His imagin- 
ation, though not the most lively, was highly inven- 
tive and well regulated. A correct and an improved 



3& 

taste, qualified him to perceive and enjoy whatever 
was beautiful and harmonious in nature or art. His 
memory was strong, and more than commonly reten- 
tive. He had treasured up a vast variety of facts 
and sentiments in the course of his reading and expe- 
rience, and was supplied with them by a ready recol- 
lection, at any moment when he had occasion to use 
them. 

Nor was it in respect to the exercise of single fac- 
ulties, only, that his mind was distinguished : all its 
powers moved in concert with each other. He had, 
what has been justly termed, a well balanced mind ; 
that is to say, its faculties were properly proportioned 
one to another, and performed their respective offices 
in subserviency to a common end. His fancy never 
carried away his judgment, nor did his judgment, 
on any proper occasion, repress the indulgence of his 
fancy. Each faculty of the mind preserved its pro- 
per place, and was brought into exercise when, and 
where, it was most necessary. This gave to the op- 
erations of his mind, a steadiness of movement, a 
coolness and deliberation of view, which kept it from 
every thing wild and extravagant, and gave to his 
opinions, a character of consistency and uniformity. 
To this cause, also, it was owing, that he possessed 
so great a share of common sense, and was not gives 
to change, either in his views or his conduct. 

But that which gave to his mind its chief advantage, 
was the thorough discipline to which its faculties were 
subjected. He had a perfect control of his mind. 
When its powers were not impaired by disease, or 
too great exertion, he could call them into exercise 






37 

at any moment, and direct them to any object, as he 
pleased. Those who have had occasion to call upon 
him in the season of study, have been surprised to 
see with what facility, he could divert his mind from 
any subject in which he was engaged, however great 
or interesting it might be, and turn all his thoughts at 
©nee, to a matter of mere private or parochial con- 
cern, with the same fixedness of attention as if it had 
been the only object of his contemplation for hours. 
This gave him many facilities in the discharge of his 
various and multiplied duties, without which it is im- 
possible to conceive, how he could ever have accom- 
plished what he did. 

Such, my brethren, were some of the principal traits 
which distinguished the mental powers of your late Pas- 
tor. His moral qualities were not less prominent. 
From the history of his life, as already given, it must 
be evident to every one, that Divine grace had done 
much to elevate and to sanctify his affections. His pie- 
ty was deep and uniform. As a Christian, he exhib- 
ited strong confidence in the moral character of God ; 
exalted views of his perfections and government ; a 
warm and steady attachment to the interests of his 
kingdom ; a cordial belief of his word ; and a deep 
sense of dependance on his grace. With a lively 
conviction of his own sinfulness and unworthiness, 
in the sight of God, he hoped for forgiveness, 
through the meritorious sufferings and death of Jesus 
Christ. The character of the Redeemer, as a Divine 
Person ; the all-sufficiency of his atonement, and the 
absolute necessity of relying upon that alone for sal- 
vation; were with him essential articles of faith* 



38 

They were doctrines, which, with others clearly im- 
plied in them, he not only defended with singular 
ability, but greatly loved. They formed the life 
and soul of his religious character. They were 
constant themes of his discourse, and the governing 
principles of his actions. 

His benevolence to men, shone with peculiar lus- 
tre. The many important services which he per- 
formed for the good of mankind, furnish a proof of 
this fact, which will be acknowledged with increasing 
gratitude, for ages to come. 

His private character, was marked by a conscien- 
tious regard to the duties of personal and family re- 
ligion. He was a man of prayer. In his own soul, 
there is reason to believe, he maintained a constant 
intercourse with Heaven ; and when he poured out 
his heart upon the domestic altar, it was with great 
tenderness and copiousness of expression, as well as" 
with peculiar unction of feeling. 

But that which struck the eye of a friend, as mor6 
characteristic of the piety of Dr. Worcester than 
any thing else, was his habit of referring every thing 
to Providence. He believed that God, through the 
instrumentality of means, was moving, and speaking, 
in every event which came to pass. This he under- 
stood to be the end of his Providence, To this im- 
mense field of observation, therefore, his eye was coi> 
stantly turned, and from it he was ever deriving les- 
sons of divine instruction. It formed a large part of 
the business of his life, to study Providence. He con- 
ceived that so far as he could ascertain the course of 



30 

it, and perceive the results to which it was leading, 
his own judgment might proceed with safety. 

How admirably the character of his mind, and his 
habits of reflection, qualified him for this mode of in- 
vestigation, will be obvious to all. To his success- 
ful exertions in forming comprehensive views of Pro- 
vidence, it is doubtless to be ascribed, that his opin- 
ions of what was duty and expediency, were so often 
correct ; where most men would have found it diffi- 
cult, if not impossible, to come to any conclusion what- 
ever. By searching with great care and diligence, for 
the leadings of Providence, his opinions became rather 
his perception of what appeared to be the will of 
God, than any original or unassisted speculations of 
his own; and of course, they were right* 

Having said thus much of the intellectual and moral 
character of Dr. Worcester, it will require but little 
time to form an idea of the manner in which he dis- 
charged the duties of his office, as a Minister of 
this church and congregation. For whatever he was 
in these respects, it is plain he must have been in all 
the transactions of public and private life. If your 
Pastor had talents, which raised him to eminence in 
the wider field of general usefulness ; the same talents 
wore employed for the benefit of those who moved 

•How clearly, and at the same time how beautifully, Dr. Worcester 
let-; himself illustrated this part of lu« character, in his late communications 
to Mr. Fa- arts, his endeared and honoured associate in the Missionary 
oause, it is unnecessary to state. Let every man, and every minister io 
the land, who would act with any portion of his wisdom under the various 
emergencies of life, read them. It will be seen, not only what Dr. Wor- 
OE8 tkr was, but what all must be who tread in his steps, and acquire his 
skill in judgment. It is a trait, without which the cause of missions can» 
not be conducted with success a single year. The communications refer- 
red to, mav be found in the numbers of the Missionary Herald for May aui 
June, 1821. 



40 

in the circle of his pastoral and domestic relations* 
The objects of his attention were not, indeed, so nu- 
merous, nor in their connexion with the world so im- 
portant ; but so far as occasion called for the exer- 
cise of his powers, the same resources were brought 
into operation in the one sphere as in another. 

The remarks which I have to make upon this part 
of the character of Dr. Worcester, relate to him as 
a Preacher, and as a Pastor. 

As a Preacher, Dr. Worcester was distinguished 
more by the excellence of his compositions, than the 
manner of his delivery. There was a degree of de- 
liberation in his speech, and an appearance of effort 
in the expression of his countenance, which made him 
less interesting to a popular assembly, than many 
other men. But the solid merit of his discourses 
amplv atoned for every defect of this kind. 

His sermons were eminently calculated to instruct. 
The subjects were well chosen and adapted to every 
variety of occasion. In his arrangement he was clear 
and simple. His illustrations were generally copious ; 
but always natural and appropriate. His language 
was distinguished for its perspicuity and smoothness. 
Often it was elegant. If defective in any respect, it 
was in an occasional want of brevity and precision. 

He was "mighty in the scriptures" He possessed 
a happy talent for introducing quotations from them 
into all his discourses, which gave them a peculiar 
richness of language as well as of sentiment. In the 
early part of his ministry, he applied himself with 
great diligence to the study of the sacred oracles, 
and frequently gave his people expeditions of its most 



41 

difficult and interesting passages.* It should be 
added, he was a practical preacher. His sermons 
were not addressed to the understanding alone. 
Whatever the subject might be, he always found 
opportunity to deduce a variety of important infer- 
ences, which he applied directly to the consciences 
and hearts of his hearers — at the same time, he 
expressed himself in a manner so affectionate and 
solemn, that the most indifferent were often made to 
feel. 

In his character as a Pastor, one of the most con- 
spicuous traits which Dr. Worcester discovered, was 
his dcvotcdncss to his work. He gave himself whol- 
ly to the ministry; and allowed no private or secular 
end to divert his attention from what he considered, 
its appropriate duties. With a mind qualifying him 
for any station, and possessed of resources which he 
might easily have rendered subservient to his pecuni- 
ary interests, he was satisfied to spend his days in la- 
borious exertions for the good of others, with no other 
compensation than what was merely necessary for his 
present support.! 

If we enquire the cause of this devotedness, w T e 
shall find it to have originated in an ardent love for 
the duties of the sacred office. In the discharge of 
these, he found ample scope for all the powers of his 
mind, and the best feelings of his heart. From these, 
therefore, no temptation could allure him. He ap- 
plied himself with unwearied effort to the perform- 
ance of them, and coveted no other profession or 
pursuit, on earth. 

*Note D. *Ncte E. 

6 



42 

He was an affectionate Pastor. He felt a tender 
interest for all his flock. If they were blessed with 
prosperity, he rejoiced ; if they mourned under ad- 
versity, he was always ready to impart consolation. 
Perhaps no man could express a livelier sympathy in 
the trials of those who were endeared to him, than 
your beloved Pastor. For this, it is true, he was in 
some measure fitted, by the repeated afflictions which 
he suffered in his own family;* but he possessed a natu- 
ral sensibility, which easily entered into the feelings 
of others. With what tenderness of manner, and ap- 
propriateness of language, he could adapt his conver- 
sation to the circumstances of those who were in dis- 
tress, you, my hearers, who heard him in seasons of 
sorrow, can better remember, than I describe. 

In his pastoral visits, he was frequent, and to a high 
degree faithful. He regarded them as constituting 
an important part of ministerial duty ; and in the ear- 
ly period of his ministry, before his time became so 
much occupied with public engagements, he devoted 
himself to them with uncommon assiduity. Several 
hundred visits of this kind has he made in a single 
year ; — with how much benefit to those who enjoyed 
them, it is unnecessary for me to say. 

To the sick and afflicted, he was peculiarly at* 
fentive. He considered them as possessing the first 
claim upon his services, and allowed them to make 
large demands upon his time. Nor were the instruc- 
tions, which he gave upon these occasions, lost. Few 
ministers have been so highly favoured in this re- 
spect, as himself. Some of the most precious fruits 

*N^te F, 



43 

of his ministry were derived from his visits to 
the sick and afflicted. His faithiiil warnings were 
heard; and in a number of instances, became the 
means of permanent good. 

Dr. Worcester earnestly desired the spiritual 
welfare of his church. He believed the church to 
be an institution of Christ — possessing a character 
wholly distinct from the world ; invested with spe- 
cial privileges; and designed for the most impor- 
tant ends. He considered it as the "light of the 
world," — the "salt of the earth" — "the pillar and 
ground of the truth." Every encroachment up- 
on its rights — every attempt to destroy its separate 
character and merge it into the world, whether 
made by political or religious men; he regarded, 
not only as dangerous to morality, but an act of open 
hostility to the Gospel itself. 

It was his fervent wish, that the members of his 
church might live, in all respects, conformably to the 
character and privileges, of an Institution of Christ. — 
To this end a large proportion of his labours was direct- 
ed. In public, and in private ; at the sacramental table, 
and in the social conference ; he took occasion to im- 
press on those who " named the name of Christ," 
the sacredness of their profession, and the nature 
and magnitude of the duties which it imposed. Ye 
yourselves, brethren, " know how he exhorted, and 
comforted, and charged every one of you, as a Fathr 
er doth his children; that ye would walk worthy of 
God, who hath called you unto his kingdom and 
glory." 

He was strongly attached to the members of his 



44 

church. Of this, the following declaration contained 
in one of his last letters, affords sufficient proof. He 
had been informed that the week after his depar- 
ture, the church held a day of fasting and prayer up- 
on his account. In a letter to a friend, he says, "By 
the account you have so feelingly given me, of the 
meeting of the church for prayer on my behalf, on 
the Friday after my embarkation, my heart is melt- 
ed. God will not forget that day of fasting and 
prayer, nor the fervent supplications, nor the tears 
of tenderness, nor the tremblings and fluctuations of 
hope, nor the anticipations of the meeting in our 
Father's house, not made with hands. I beg you to 
say to that church for yourself, and to repeat for me, 
with the tenderest emphasis of love and gratitude, 
— "Peace be within thy walls, and prosperity within 
thy palaces. For my brethren and companions' 
sakes, I will now say, Peace be within thee. Be- 
cause of the house of the Lord our God, I will seek 
thy good." 

Dr. Worcester devoted much of his time to study. 
He believed that no man, however great his talents 
might be, could discharge the duties of the Pastoral 
office in an able and faithful manner, without fre- 
quent meditation, and a laborious application to stu- 
dy. From the commencement of his ministry, his 
habits were, therefore, those of a diligent and thoiv 
ough student. Upon the time, which he held con- 
secrated to this object, he allowed neither pastoral 
visits, nor any other parochial engagement, to en- 
croach. 

Your Pastor was also distinguished, for the extra- 






45 

ordinary wisdom and prudence, with which he per- 
formed the duties of his office. His rule was, "To 
do things at the proper time, and in the right way." 
To this maxim, his own conduct was strictly conform- 
ed. He watched the course of Providence, and waited 
the arrival of an auspicious moment before he ven- 
tured to make an effort. He never committed him- 
self. In cases of great trial and difficulty, his pro- 
ceedings were marked with a degree of caution and 
deliberation, which almost always gave them success. 
So strikingly was this the fact, that if he proposed to 
carry any measure, it was common for his friends to 
predict the accomplishment of it, notwithstanding the 
opposition which it might have to encounter. 

Nor were his wisdom and prudence, the only qual- 
ities which gave him distinguished advantages, at such 
a time. He possessed great decision of character. 
In forming his opinions, he was independent; — in 
maintaining them, firm. When once he had taken his 
ground — he held it, unawed by any circumstances 
which might be arrayed against him. 

Dr. Worcester was a laborious Pastor. Notwith- 
standing all his exertions for the public good, few 
ministers have done so much for their people, in so 
short a time. He had a habit of diligence, and of 
close application to business, which Avould have ena- 
bled one of far less mental resources, to accomplish 
much in a course of years. But when we reflect, 
that these habits were, in him, associated with the 
first talents, and were under the control of a strong 
attachment to the interests of the Redeemer's king- 
dom, — how must the sum of his useful labours have 
been increased. 



46 

It would be easy to dwell upon the important ser- 
vices which he performed, in the course of his minis- 
try, for the good of this church and people. Some of 
these have already been mentioned. His services in 
the pulpit deserve particular notice. During the pe- 
riod of his pastoral labours, he wrote more than a 
thousand sermons, besides the occasional discourses 
which he published. These you have heard. The 
solid instruction, the faithful admonitions, the kind 
entreaties, which they contain, were addressed to you. 
Where will you go to find another congregation, who 
have heard a thousand other sermons, such as these, 
in the same time ? It would be injustice to pass over 
in this review, the exertions which your Pastor made 
for the improvement of our Christian Psalmody. On 
this subject, his efforts were peculiarly happy. They 
have proved so, not only to us, but to others who have 
availed themselves of his labours, in the worship of 
the sanctuary. The single fact, that his compilation 
contains a key to the expression which should be given 
to the language of sacred music, according to the sen- 
timent expressed, is enough to make it invaluable ; and 
promises, at no distant period, greatly to improve 
the mode of singing in our churches. 

Another remark to be made respecting Dr. Wor- 
cester, is, that he was a successful Pastor. From the 
description of his character which has been given, it 
is evident that he possessed, in an eminent degree, 
those qualifications which give strength and stability 
to a society. Accordingly, his own congregation nev- 
er flourished more than during the period of his min- 
istry. When he began his labours, as you well 



47 

know, the society was weakened by divisions, and f en- 
quired the wisdom and energy of an able and devoted 
Pastor, to recruit its strength. These he combined 
in so remarkable a manner, that the highest hopes and 
expectations of his people were realized. 

But this is not the success, to which I principally 
allude. His labours were blessed to the souls of his 
people. He had the happiness to witness several 
revivals of religion, in which he greatly rejoiced — and 
in the fruits of which, it is to be hoped, he will re- 
joice, forever. During the eighteen years of his res- 
idence among you, two hundred and fifty-five persons 
were added to the church — most of whom, as we 
trust, were the seals of his ministry.* 

It is proper to add in this connexion, that Dr. Wor- 
cester cherished a livelv concern for the welfare of 
other churches. He believed that the churches of 
Christ were united by a common bond ; that if one 
member suffered, all the members suffered with it; 
and that they were bound to afford mutual aid. It 
was impossible that one so well qualified to give as- 
sistance as himself, should not have been often called 
upon. In the course of his ministry he attended more 
than eighty ecclesiastical councils, and was invited to 
many more. The services which he rendered upon 
some of these occasions, were of the highest moment, 
and will long be held in the most grateful remem- 
brance, i 

It was his concern for the welfare of other* 
churches, which called forth those able vindications 
of the truth, which have given such just celebrity to 

Note G. 



4tf 

his name. To some, it might seem, from the fre- 
quency with which your Pastor appeared upon these 
occasions, that he was a lover of controversy. But 
no man was more sincerely desirous of peace. Of this 
his own declaration, upon an occasion of this nature, 
furnishes evidence which no candid mind will reject. 
" Be my character," says he, " in other respects, 
what it may, those who have known me best, in the 
different scenes of my life, have never suspected me, 
I believe, of possessing a disposition for contention."* 
No, my brethren, it was his love of peace, and his 
strong desire to check the influence of those errors 
which were calculated to subvert the peace and purity 
of the churches, that called him before the public in 
the character of a controversialist. 

It was natural enough for those who felt unfriend- 
ly to the influence of Dr. Worcester, to ascribe the 
range which he took in public affairs, to motives of 
wordly ambition. But if those who made the insin- 
uation had known him as well as his more intimate ac- 
quaintance, they would have perceived that their re- 
marks were widely different from the truth. That he 
desired to exert an extensive influence in the church, 
and in the world, will not be questioned ; for every 
good man who has the same endowments, and cher- 
ishes a proper sense of his accountability to his Di- 
vine Master, cannot but desire it. It was, however, 
an influence for Christ which he wished to exert, and 
which, if we have not wholly mistaken his character, 
he did exert. 

* u Facts and Documents, Exhibiting a Summary View of Ecclesiastical 
Affairs," in Fitchburgh — p. 116. 



49 

You will doubtless expect, that I should say some- 
thing of the character of Dr. Worcester, as an Asso- 
ciate Pastor. On this subject, I scarcely dare to 
trust my own feelings. I may, however, be permitted 
to say, that I shall ever regard the period of my con- 
nexion with him, as one of the happiest portions of 
my life. And whatever may have been the history 
of other connexions of a similar nature, with heart- 
felt gratitude to God, I desire to record of this — that 
no incident ever occurred, which was known to inter- 
rupt its peace, or to mar its enjoyment, for a mo- 
ment. I weep while I think its endearments are at 
an end ; and that I shall sit at his feet, and receive 
his paternal instructions, no more. 

I have only to add a few remarks respecting the 
character of Dr. Worcester, in the private relations of 
life. He was strongly endeared to his friends. To 
him they often came for counsel, and were never de- 
nied his most ailectionate aid. As a Husband and 
Father, his memory will never cease to be cherished 
with the sincerest gratitude and delight. To the 
different members of his family he was very tender- 
ly attached. He carried them in his thoughts where- 
ever he went — and offered for them his most fervent 
prayers. 

lie was eminently htted for the intimacy of private 
friendship. Although he was naturally reserved, and 
to a stranger sometimes appeared distant, no man 
could unbosom himself with greater freedom to a 
friend. In moments of relaxation he was cheerful ; 
often sprightly. His pleasantry, however, was never 
7 



bo 

allowed in the least degree to detract from the dig- 
nity with which his whole deportment was marked. 

Such, my brethren, was the Pastor, whose labours 
for eighteen years, it was your privilege to enjoy. To 
this church and congregation, in all its branches, his 
death is a loss which no language will express. To 
those of you, who owe your hopes of eternal life to his 
instrumentality, it has left a void, which no other Pas- 
tor can fill. " For though ye have ten thousand in- 
structors in Christ, yet have ye not many fathers." 
To the cause of truth and benevolence, it is a loss, 
which there is no occasion that I should describe. 

But these are relations which your Pastor held to 
the world. What, then^ must be the loss, which his 
death has occasioned to his afflicted and dependant 
family. 

Yours, my dear Madam, 

Is the sorrow which the stranger intermeddle til not 
with. The ehord which has been severed in your 
heart, is the tenderest, which nature feels. We doubt 
not, when you think that it has made you a widow, 
and your beloved children orphans ; you are ready 
to sink under the load of your grief. But let it not 
be forgotten, the cup which your Heavenly Father 
has given you, is not entirely filled with sorrow. This 
church and congregation weep with you, and continu- 
ally bear you on their hearts. Thousands in the 
Christian community remember your departed friend, 
and will not forget you. But this is not all. The 
promises which are made to the Widow and the 
Fatherless, are yours. God, my dear madam, the 
God of your Husband, will bless you with his presence 



51 

and grace. He will not leave you comfortless. He 
will come unto you, and no good thing will he with- 
hold from you or your children. 

What though you were not permitted to witness 
the closing scene of your Husband's life. You can 
scarcely feel a regret, when you reflect, how, and 
where, he died. From the place endeared to him by 
many prayers, and hopes, and labours, his spirit took 
its flight His dust sleeps upon Immanuel's ground; 
and when the Heavens and the Earth shall be no 
more, it will rise again, amid the fruits of his toils, 
and the crowns of his rejoicing, which on that 
day, God will give him from among the Heathen. 
Think, of that "delightful and heavenly smile," which 
passed over his countenance as his eye opened upon 
the glory of the upper world — and can you wish him 
back again? No, my friend, with humble faith and 
hope, you will wait all the days of your appointed 
time, until your change come. Then may you ascend 
and dwell where, we doubt not, he is; — and where, 
having turned many to righteousness, he is henceforth 

TO SHINE, AS THE BRIGHTNESS OF THE FIRMANENT, AND A3 
THE STARS FOREVER AND EVER. 



AMEN, 



AIKKEITMZ 



<$** 



It is due to those who heard the foregoing Sermon, to 
say, that in preparing it for publication, it has undergone 
considerable additions and amendments. It was at first 
composed in two parts, for the purpose of accommoda- 
ting it to both services of the day on which it was de- 
livered. There being no occasion for such a division in 
the publication of the discourse, the narrative is continu- 
ed ; and it is printed as a whole. It having been impossi- 
ble to collect and arrange, in time for the delivery of the 
Sermon, all the facts which it was important to embrace, 
even in a brief view of Dr. Worcester's life and charac- 
ter, the writer stated, on being asked a copy for the 
press, that he must be allowed to make such additions 
and corrections as he should judge necessary. In com- 
pliance with this understanding, he has been at consid- 
erable pains to collect such facts as he had not before re- 
ceived, and has introduced them into their proper place. 
The character of Dr. Worcester, as a Preacher and 
a Pastor, has been drawn with more particularity, and 
the prominent features of his Intellectual and Moral char- 
acter, pointed out with more precision. These constitute 
the principal amendments. To make room for them, a 
few passages have been left out, and some others con- 
densed, which were supposed to be of less importance. 
The Sermon, it is hoped, will on all these accounts, give 
more satisfaction to those for whom it was originally 
intended — and be more worthy the notice of others, who 
revere the memory of Dr. Worcester. 

For the purpose of making the historical and descrip- 
tive part of the Sermon more complete, the following- 
Notes arc subjoined. 

Note A. 

The only notices which the writer has been able to 
find of this ancient minister of New England, are the 
following. 1. In vol. X. p. 26, of the Massachusetts His- 
torical Collections, his name and place of residence are 
merely mentioned. 2. In Dr. Mathers Magnalia — vol. 
1. p. 215, Hartford edition — he is enrolled, under the 
name of "William Worcester," among those who "were 
in the actual exercise of their ministry when they left 



54 

England, and were the instruments of bringing the Gos* 
pel into this wilderness, and of settling churches here, 
according to the order of the Gospel." 3. But the princi- 
pal notice is contained in an old book, which fell acci- 
dentally into the writer's hands, entitled — "America 
Painted to the Life." "A true history of the original un- 
dertakings of the advancement of Plantations in those 
parts, &c. Written by Sir Ferdinando Georges, Knight, 
and Governour of the Fort of Plymouth in Devonshire ; 
one of the first and chiefest promoters of those planta- 
tions." This book was printed in 1658, and has a divi- 
sion, entitled, "Wonder-working Providence of Sion's 
Saviour in New England," in which the author professes 
to give a history of the various settlements which had 
been made in the country, from 1 628 to that time. la 
this division of his book, p. 135, there is a short chapter 
respecting the first settlement of Salisbury, from which 
the following is an extract — "This towne is full as fruit- 
ful in her land, chattel], and inhabitants, as her sister 
Hampton ; the people joyned in church relation or broth- 
erhood here, about the time the other did, and have de- 
sired and obtained the reverend and graciously godly 
M. Thomas Woster to be their pastor." This took plac« 
in 1639. It will be perceived that the writer has not on- 
ly given a different orthography of the name, Worces- 
ter, from Dr. Mather, but that he has prefixed a different 
christian name. The fact, however, that he composed 
his narrative almost half a century before Dr. Mather's 
Magnalia was published; and but 30 years after the 
first emigrations took place ; and was personally con- 
nected with the exertions which were then making to set- 
tle New-England — entitle his testimony to some credit. 

From this man, at the distance of the seventh genera- 
tion, if the writer has been correctly informed, Dr. Wor- 
cester was descended. His father, as has been stated in 
the narrative, had seven children by his first marriage, 
of whom he was the youngest. Their names are as fol- 
lows : — Noah, Jesse, Lydia, Sarah, Leonard, Thomas, 
and Samuel, Five are still living ; and three of them 
ministers, viz. — the Rev. Noah Worcester, D. D. settled 
at Brighton, Mass. and the well known conductor of the 
"Friend of Peace;" — the Rev. Leonard Worcester, set- 
tled at Peacham, in Vermont ; and the Rev. Thomas 
Worcester, settled at Salisbury, in New Hampshire, 



55 

Note B. 

It is said, that when a child, he frequently displayed 
the character which is here given of him. A friend re- 
marks, if he was amusing himself with toys, or any thing 
else which commonly occupies the attention of children, 
and could not immediately suit them to his taste, he 
would not hecome passionate and throw them away, as 
most children do, but sit down and patiently w r ork upon 
them until he made them please his mind. 

Note C. 

The following anecdote is derived from the most au- 
thentic source, and very strongly illustrates the degree 
in which Dr. Worcester possessed this happy talent. 
The following are the words in which the anecdote is 
communicated, by a gentleman M ho had it direct. "In his 
first essay at school -keeping, when very young, he had 
one scholar much older than himself, who had for many 
previous winters been his school-fellow. He had always 
been notorious for idleness and mischief, and of course, 
was scarcely yet able to read. On the first day, he af- 
fected to give some specimen of the contempt, his young 
master was to expect from him. Mr. Worcester kindly 
asked him to tarry after the rest were dismissed ; and, 
in an affectionate and solemn appeal to those better feel- 
ings which all possess in some degree, arrested his at- 
tention to the importance of retrieving his character, of 
recovering the lost respect of his associates, and improv- 
ing his present opportunity for instruction, which caused 
the tears to flow freely ; and as the result, he made as 
good proficiency, and was as subordinate through the 
season, as any one belonging to the school." 

Note D. 

Dr. Worcester composed many Discourses of this 
description, which were delivered in a connected series, 
and sometimes included all the important parts of entire 
Books of the Bible. He has left in manuscript, Eighty- 
Five Lectures upon Matthew ; a considerable number up- 
on Genesis ; and had begun a course upon the Acts of the 
Apostles. Those who heard them, speak of them as a- 
mong the most interesting and instructive of all his dis- 
courses. 



56 

Note E. 

The disinterestedness of Dr. Worcester, is calculated 
to endear his memory to all who set a value upon 
his services. But does it not impose the most sacred ob- 
ligation upon his friends, as well as the Christian pub- 
lic, to remember his needy and dependant family. It is 
probably known, that he has bequeathed his wife and 
children no other support than that which they are to de- 
rive from the gratitude of the community. For ten years 
he was engaged most laboriously in the service of the 
public. And if it becomes the duty of his people, to re- 
member his family on the ground that he was their Pas- 
tor — are not Christians extensively under some obliga- 
tions to remember them, on the ground that he was so 
long their servant? Let all who thank God for blessing 
the church with the labours of so great and good a man, 
bear in mind, when they offer their tribute of gratitude, 
that he has left an afflicted widow, with her six children, 
to look for support, only to the Providential kindness of 
Heaven. 

Note F. 

Dr. Worcester lost five of his children by death. 
Six are yet living ; — two sons and four daughters. The 
eldest is a son bearing his father's name, and now in col- 
lege — the youngest is an infant. 

Note G. 

Soon after Dr. Worcester's settlement in Salem, his 
people were blessed with a revival of religion, and 95 
persons, as the fruits of it, were received into the church. 
Subsequently to that period, and previous to his death, 
there have been four other seasons of more than ordinary 
attention. 



g^pThe writer intended to have given in this appen- 
dix, a list of Dr. Worcester's occasional publications ; 
but was prevented for want of room. Exclusively of what 
he wrote in behalf of Religious and Charitable Societies, 
his various publications amount to more than Thirty. 






SERMON 

Delivered Dec. 13, 1821. 

AT THE ORDINATION OF THE 

REV. WILLIAM WARE, 

TO THE PASTORAL CHARGE OF THE 

FIRST CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH 
IN NEW-YORK, 

By his Father, HENRY WARE, D. D. 

Hollis Professor of Divinity io the University in Cambridge, Mais 

TOGETHER WITH THE 

CHARGE 

AND 

RIGHT HAND OF FELLOWSHIP. 



PUBLISHED AT THE REQUEST OF THE CONGREGATION, 

BY THE LIBRARY AND TRACT SOCIETY, OF THE 

FIRST CONGRBGATIONAL CHURCH. 



1821. 



SERMON. 



But we desire to know of thee, what thou thinkest ; for, as 
concerning this sect, we know that it is every where sp6- 
ken against. — Acts xxviii, 22. 

It appears from the transactions which took place on the 
arrival of Paul at Rome as a prisoner, that although a chris- 
tian church had been for several years established there, 
and in a flourishing condition, his countrymen, the Jews in 
that city, had but a very imperfect knowledge of the chris- 
tian doctrine, and of its claims upon their acceptance. For 
we find them in the text expressing a wish to avail them- 
selves of the occasion to become better acquainted with the 
merit of the controversy, which had been raised, as to the 
pretensions of Jesus of Nazareth to be the person, whom 
the nation had expected, under the title of their Messiah. 

The most violent opposition had been every where exci- 
ted on the subject. Previous expectations were disappoint- 
ed, and previous opinions contradicted, by the humble ap- 
pearance, the unaspiring views, and simple doctrine of Je- 
sus Christ. 



\tm 



The spirit manifested upon this occasion was far different 
from what had usually appeared in the men of that nation, 
wherever the Apostle had before visited. It was not mark- 
ed with that bigotry, which, having prejudged in the cause, 
refuses all further inquiry, — turns its back upon evidence, 
and rejects, unheard, the testimony that opposes its will, or 
contradicts its previous opinions, or disappoints its expecta- 
tions. It was a spirit of fair inquiry and honest solicitude 
to know the truth, such as he seems but once before to 
have met with among his countrymen. Mke the Bereans, 
who, when he preached to them Jesus the Christ, searched 
the scriptures, in order to satisfy themselves respecting the 
doctrine, which others rejected without inquiry ; these Ro- 
man Jews were willing patiently to listen to his explanation 
and defence of a doctrine, which they had often heard calum- 
niated, and which they knew was every where spoken 
against. 

This treatment, to which the gospel itself was exposed at 
its first promulgation, its pure and simple doctrine has often 
met with in succeeding times. But it has not always been 
the lot of those, who were engaged in endeavours to restore 
the doctrine first taught by the Saviour and his apostles 
to meet with those who were as ready as these Romans — 
subduing their own personal prejudices, and regardless of 
the popular clamour — to give the subject a patient and im- 
partial hearing. 

It was not long that the doctrine taught by the Founder of 
our faith remained in its primitive purity. Soon it became 
incorporated with the philosophy of the age— it mingled with 
the interests of the world, and was corrupted and debased 
by human passions. In a few instances it had assumed a 
character so different from what it was, as it first proceeded 



from the lips of Jesus and his apostles, that he who should 
then have first seen it, would scarcely have been able 
to recognize it as the same thing, that was presented to 
his view and demanded his faith in the institutions of the 
day. 

The corruptions, which thus early began to be introduced, 
were increased, as the religion passed into the deep intellect- 
ual and moral darkness of the ages that succeeded. And 
they were then perpetuated, ar.d the restoration of the pri- 
mitive faith was prevented, by the policy of withholding from 
christians the books of the New Testament, and permitting 
them to know their religion only as it was to be seen in the 
public institutions, and in the interpretations of the church. 

When the christian doctrine had remained for several cen- 
turies thus changed from its original character and form, 
and together with all that was valuable in literature and sci- 
ence, buried in the ignorance and barbarism that then cover- 
ed the earth ; it felt, at the same moment with human 
learning, the first influences of that dawning light which was 
gradually opening upon the world, and was destined to re- 
store a brighter day ; and the revival of learning, and the 
reformation of religion, simultaneous in their origin, went on 
with a similar progress, having, as they proceeded, similar 
opposition to encounter, and the same difficulties to surmount. 
The restorers of the pure doctrine of the gospel, like it? 
primitive teachers, were regarded as men, who, — in their at- 
tacks upon deep rooted prejudices and long cherished opin- 
ions, and in their attempts to overthrow ancient establish- 
ments, and thus, as was expressed by their adversaries, were 
turning the world upside down, — were neither to be encour- 
aged nor tolerated. And the same obstinate adherence to 
received opinions, which thus brought odium, and opposi- 



6 

tion, and persecution upon the reformers of religion, extend- 
ed also its arm of protection over the barbarous philosophy 
of the age, and made its power felt by every one, who, having 
the discernment to perceive, had also the courage to expose, 
the feebleness of its foundation, and to attempt its overthrow. 

It was not long after Huss and Jerome had sealed their tes- 
timony to the truth at the stake, and Luther and the other 
champions of the reformation had with difficulty escaped the 
same fate to suffer dangers and persecution in other forms, — 
that Galileo, for asserting what has since been proved to be 
the true system of the universe, was imprisoned by the inqui- 
sition, and required to recant the monstrous heresy; and the 
book in which he had ventured to proclaim it, was burnt by 
the public authority. Till this period popular ignorance, 
and prejudice, and a jealous and despotic monarchy were 
equally armed against all improvement, as well in philosophy 
as in religion. In succeeding times, with the advancement 
of knowledge, a more liberal and enlarged spirit, as respects 
every other subject of human inquiry, has been gradually 
introduced, till scarcely a vestige remains of the bigotry and 
the restraints of former ages 5 and opinions that have been 
maintained from immemorial time, are yielded up without a 
struggle. But this spirit has not extended itself in equal 
degree to the subject of religion. When we recollect for 
what a length of time, and by what successive steps the er- 
rours and corruptions, which at last so disfigured our religion, 
had been gathering around it — and had become linked ta- 
gether, and incorporated into a sj'stem, which had obtain- 
ed a firm hold in the popular faith, and was connected with 
alt the literature of the age, with all the interests of soci- 
ety, and with all the powers of the state ;— it were not to 
be expected that the whole work of reformation should be 
accomplished at once. It must be gradual and slow. It 



were sufficient glory to be the first to discover some of the 
most obvious errours, and to correct some of the most mani- 
fest abuses. It is no reproach to those who took the lead 
in that important work, that they stopped at the threshhold, 
and left it to be completed by their successors. To the 
most perfect and faithful organs of vision, the first dawn of 
returning light must present objects but imperfectly ; not 
with distinctness, nor in their just shape and dimensions. 
And if, besides, the organs themselves have become distem- 
pered by groping in the dark, or their power or exactness 
be impaired by disuse, it may serve still further to prolong 
the period of imperfect vision, and, even at mid-day; objects 
may not be fully restored to the colour and symmetry of 
nature and truth. But not only was much left for the la- 
bour and research of those who were to follow for a long 
time. The same violence of opposition was also to be en- 
countered by every one, who should attempt another step 
in the progress so happily begun, which had been experienc- 
ed in the first efforts of the reformation, and in the first pro- 
mulgation of the gospel. Both they, and the work they 
were attempting to accomplish, were every where spoken 
against. 

That efforts to correct errours in religious faith, and re- 
store it to its primitive purity, should meet with a different 
fate from those which were directed to the recovery of truth 
of any other kind, that had been lost in the ages of dark- 
ness, or had never before been discovered, ought not to 
surprise us. It is a natural consequence of the deeper in- 
terest it engages. In proportion to their estimate of its in- 
finite value, will be the attachment of mankind to the form 
in which they have been accustomed to view it, and their 
reluctance to give up any of the opinions which have been 
always associated with it in their minds. 



8 

Besides this, there is another circumstance, which early 
stopped the progress of the reformation, and has since re- 
tarded the restoration of our religion to its primitive state. 
The followers and successors of those great men, who first 
gave an impulse to the christian world, have satisfied them- 
selves with indolently adopting the peculiar opinions of the 
Reformers, instead of asserting the great principles of the 
Reformation. They have only changed one human master 
for another, instead of renouncing all authority, but that of 
our common master, the great head of the church. Thu0 
receiving implicitly, and following servilely the theological 
opinions of Luther and Calvin, (most of which made no part 
of the reformation ; for they were opinions which they 
brought with them from from the church from which they 
separated, and held afterwards in common with that church) 
the great principles of the reformation, " the sufficiency of 
the scriptures, and the right of private judgment in their in- 
terpretation," were lost sight of. The consequence of thi*. 
has been, that the churches of the reformation, directing 
their attention to the maintenance and defence of the sys- 
tem of faith, which the reformers adopted, instead of imi- 
tating the spirit of free inquiry which distinguished them, 
and practically asserting the religious liberty, which they 
first dared to claim, and maintained, have done all that was 
in their power to prevent the reformation from proceeding 
a step further, than its first champions had carried it. 
There has accordingly not ceased to be too reasonable 
ground for the same complaint, which two centuries ago was 
drawn from the celebrated Robinson in his farewell to the 
pilgrims of Leyden — that the followers of Luther and of 
Calvin would proceed no further than their leaders had 
gone before them ; but still stuck, where they left them, in- 
stead of proceeding forward in imitation of their example. 
Nor is this all. — Those who have not seen their way clear 



lo go onward themselves, have not always been ready to p2r- 
mit their brethren to proceed. With singular inconsistency 
and in justice have those not unfrequcntly been charged with 
the doctrines of the reformation — who* with the 
spirit of the first reformers, and adopting the great princi- 
ple upon which they achieved the glorious event, were en- 
deavouring to carry on and perfect the work which they 

hi. And, with equally singular inconsistency, has this 
charge been urged upon them by those, who, claiming to be 

lusively the followers of the early reformers, are yet, in 
doing this, exhibiting the spirit and imitating the conduct of 
that church, which resisted and opposed the reformation. 
It reminds us of the severe rebuke of our Saviour, addressed 
to those, who in his time honoured the memory of the an- 
cient prophets, whom their fathers had persecuted : " Ye 
witnesses to yourselves, that ye are the children of 
those, who slew the prophets." 

I know that, in words, the great principles upon which 
the Reformation proceeded, — "the sufficiency of the scrip- 
tures and the right of private judgment," — are acknowledg- 
ed. But with what propriety, if he, who, in the conscien- 
tious exercise of the right, has been led to depart from the 
popular faith, is treated as an apostate from that cause, of 
his respect and attachment to which he is, in that very act, 
giving an example. 

In the present age. so distinguished for the light, which 
it has shed upon every other branch of human knowledge, 
the study of religion has not been neglected. The inter- 
pretation of the holy scriptures, in particular, has claimed a 
large share of the attention of christian students; and in no 
age probably since the first promulgation of the gospel, have 
the labours of the learned contributed so much, within a 
B 



10 



short time, to explain and illustrate the sacred books. New 
sources of knowledge having been opened in the course of 
three centuries, and the rules and principles of interpreta- 
tion being better understood, than in the infancy of modern 
learning, — it has happened of course, that views of christian 
doctrine are entertained by many, in some important points 
different from the faith that was held by the first reformers, 
and from the system of doctrines, which has generally pre- 
vailed in protestant churches since that time. The most 
important of these deviations have related to the personal 
unity of God, the nature and person of Jesus Christ, 
and several opinions which have an immediate relation to 
the character of the moral government of God. 

But these doctrines — by way of distinction, and with great 
propriety, denominated Unitarian — are not to be regarded as 
new discoveries. They were not first brought to light, nor 
first restored to light, by the labour and research of the 
present age. They have been held by some of the greatest 
luminaries in the christian world, ever since the period of the 
Reformation: And we believe them to have constituted the 
faith of the primitive christians, until those gross corruptions 
were incorporated with the gospel, from which it was the 
work of the reformation, and has been the gradual labour of 
succeeding times, to purify it* 



That examination of the sacred books, which has led to 
these results, has not been undertaken with levity, nor 
conductedwi th careless indifference; but with a serious- 
ness, piety, love of truth, and conscientious fidelity in 
search of it, which becomes the christian character ; and 
with an anxious wish to know, what is the true doctrine 
concerning himself, and the purposes of his mission, which 
the Saviour taught — It has been conducted, too, with the 



11 

same reverence for the sacred writings, and scrupulous care 
to acknowledge nothing for revealed truth, which they did 
not find there taught, whatever place it might hold in es- 
tablished systems, which marked the character of those, 
who first burst the chains of ecclesiastical tyranny, 
opened the eyes of the christian world to their rights and 
then duties, and assumed and vindicated the liberty, with 
which the Founder of their faith had made them free. 

Nor have they claimed any other liberty, or exercised 
any other rights, than are now universally acknowledged to 
belong to every christian. But if we have the right, in 
common with our christian brethren of every other 
form of faith, to inquire, and to interpret the scrip- 
tures for ourselves ; we have a right, also, in common 
with them, to hold and to profess the faith, to which fair in- 
quiry has led us; — to <lu it without reproach, without ex- 
posure to that " venom of the tongue, — " the last tint is 
emitted by the spirit of persecution in its expiring struggles, 
when its flames are quenched, and its arm of power is pal- 
sied. And we therefore rightfully appeal to the public 
sense of justice, when those, who claim for themselves, 
and professedly allow to all, the right of free inquiry, and 
the privilege of interpreting the scriptures for themselves, 
yet, in palpable violation of this principle, deny even the 
christian name, and, as far as they have power, christian 
privileges, to those, who in the exercise of this right, and 
in performing a sacred duty, are led to adopt a system of 
faith, differing in some points from that, which generally 
prevails. 

It is not the design of the present discourse to pursue fur- 
ther the arguments, upon which this appeal may be urged 
and supported. I shall rather turn to another topir, ren- 



12 

dereu suitable by the occasion, and the circumstances under 
which we meet, — that of pointing out some of the duties, 
which belong to those societies and their ministers, who 
profess a doctrine, against which so strong prejudices exist, 
which has excited so much public odium and powerful op- 
position in many places, and the nature, and character, and 
tendency of which have been so little understood ; and 
sometimes, I am sorry to add, misrepresented and abused 
by those, in whom a better spirit, and fairer conduct were 
to have been expected. 

In recurring to the view, which has been tak^n, an ob- 
vious reflection arises, calculated to console them under re- 
proach and abuse, and to encourage to firmness and perse- 
verance in duty. For we find, that many, who have been 
most honoured as the asserters of christian truth and chris^ 
tian liberty, were yet once considered as having renounced 
the faith, and as deserving to be classed with infidels, and 
apostates, and the enemies of God. It was so with the pri- 
mitive disciples of our Lord. It was so with the whole 
company of martyrs, who succeeded them, not only in bear- 
ing witness to the truth, through evil report as well as good 
report, but in sealing their testimony with their blood. It 
was so with the no less faithful and intrepid band of reform- 
ers, who first dared to attempt the delivering of our faith 
from the corruptions it had contracted in ages of darkness and 
ecclesiastical despotism. They will not then be surprised, 
"as if some strange thing had befallen them;" nor discouraged 
under the apprehension of being borne down, and seeing the 
failure of what they believe to be the cause of truth ; nor 
will they yield to timid doubts and misgiving of mind, under 
an impression, that to meet with opposition is any mark of 
errour. They will have satisfaction in reflecting, that in 
suffering opprobrium, they are associated with all thosej 



J 



13 

■who in every age have had occasion to stand forth in the 
cause of christian truth and liberty ; — and that if reproach 
or opposition be a mark of errour, — then are those of former 
ages, whom we are accustomed to hold in highest veneration, 
to be regarded as false teachers, and apostates from the true 
faith. Not to mention again the primitive disciples, the 
early martyrs, and the great leaders in the reformation, — the 
names of Grotiua, Newton, and Locke have come down to 
us with high honour and respect, as men who contributed 
much to the restoration of the pure doctrine and true spirit 
of the gospel. But we must not forget that these men, in 
their life time, not less than Priestley and Wakefield and 
Lindsey in theirs, were bold up to public odium and distrust, 
as the great heretics of the day: — And even the pious and 
benevolent Watts, in whom, if in any man, orthodoxy was 
•redded to charity, wm hardly able to extend so far his man- 
tle of charity, as to find for the last of these a place in 
i; and finally did it, only by denying him an article 
of faith, which he is generally believed to have maintained, 
and which, it is evident, Watts himself more than sus- 
pected him of holding. 

I. It is, in the first place, a duty, which christians, whose 
opinions are every where spoken against, owe to the cause 
of truth, — not to suffer those opinions, for want of being fairly 
siated and explained, to remain imperfectly understood, to 
be the occasion of prejudice and distrust in the minds of 
those fellow christians, who sincerely wish for correct in- 
formation, and the means and the power of judging fairly. 
You are not, indeed, obliged so to explain either the grounds 
of your faith, or the motives of your conduct, that they shall 
aot be liable to be mistaken by the ignorant or careless : 
or misrepresented by the designing :— But you are obliged 



14 

to leave no reasonable ground for complaint, that a fair ex- 
position of them is no where to be found. The honest in- 
quirer, who is disposed to do justice to the opinions of Uni- 
tarians, must have it in his power to know what they are, 
where a clear and just statement of them is to be met with, 
and where he may see the objections brought against them 
fairly confuted. This is to be effected only by the activity 
and zeal of the public teachers of religion, especially of 
those, whose situation renders it proper for them to speak 
in the name of their brethren. Such expositions of our 
faith, perhaps it will be said, are not wanting, they are suf- 
ficiently numerous, and faithfully published. But it must 
not be forgotten, that once to perform this office, is not 
enough. It is " line upon line, and precept upon precept" 
only, the frequent reiteration with distinctness and impres- 
sion, which is to produce the final triumph of truth, and 
give the public sentiment and feeling a right direction. As 
often as there is a misapprehension of our meaning, or a 
false or defective statement of it is repeated ; the true and 
faithful representation, which is to correct the mistake, and 
confute the false charge, must be repeated also. Nor will 
the faithful advocate and defender of truth allow himself to 
grow weary of the task, nor suffer " the thrice confuted 
errour," at length to pass uncontradicted. 

II. But in performing this office, we have a solemn and 
highly responsible charge. Better were it far to neglect 
the duty, than to perform it in a manner and with a spirit, 
which shall bring a reproach upon the cause, which it 
is our aim to support. It must be our care not to incur 
from the author of our faith, the rebuke addressed to his 
disciples of old, " Ye know not what manner of spirit ye 
are of." 



15 

We must be reminded, in explaining and defending our 
system of faith, and in our treatment of those, who oppose 
it, how much it is our duty to be gentle and courteous, to 
exemplify the principles and spirit upon which we profess 
to act, and which make a distinguishing trait in the chris- 
tian character. We shall be criminally defective, and de- 
servedly forfeit the public confidence, if it be not our en- 
deavour, that in the whole of our conduct as well as in the 
articles of our faith, the Unitarian should be identified with 
the Christian ; and especially, in the spirit we manifest, and 
the deportment we exhibit, under those irritations, which 
are so apt to draw forth and expose any defect of the chris 
tian temper. " This is thankworthy, if for conscience to- 
ward God, ye endure suffering wrongfully. For what glory 
is it, if when ye are buffeted for your faults, ye shall take 
it patiently ? But if when ye do well and suffer for it, ye 
take it patiently, — this is acceptable to God." 

If our christian faith, or our christian character be assailed 
with bitterness, and even the christian name be denied us, 
we must endeavour to manifest, that we deserve not the 
harsh and rude assault, that we merit not to be thus un- 
ceremoniously thrust out of the pale of charity, excluded 
from the kingdom of heaven, and classed with heathen and 
infidels ; by refraining from the imitation of the spirit which 
is thus excited against us, and by looking to him, whose 
example it is our duty and our highest glory in all things to 
follow, " who, when he was reviled, reviled not again, — ■ 
when he suffered, threatened not, but committed himself to 
him, who judgeth righteously." 

But we have a yet higher duty to discharge, and a more 
solemn demand to answer. It is not enough for us to be 
earnestly engaged in promoting, what we believe to be the 
cause of truth and the cause of God, and to be influenced 



16 

by this motive to an exemplary manifestation of that part of 
the christian character, which may have a direct influence 
upon our success. We must perform the same class of 
duties from a purer motive than this ; and must rememher, 
also, that we are called upon, in the third place, 

III. To display the influence of the christian faith, not 
in one class of virtues only, and with a reference to the pe- 
culiar doctrines in which we differ from others, but in ex- 
amples of universal holiness, and every christian virtue. 
We must not, in our zeal to defend and support the articles 
of our belief, forget that the great end of religion is personal 
holiness. That form of faith, then, and that system of doc- 
trines is the best, which tends most effectually to produce 
the fruits of a holy life. That which we have adopted will 
be judged by this rule ; and we may expect it to recom- 
mend itself in proportion as this tendency is visible. It is 
not, however, a safe rule to estimate the moral tendency of 
a doctrine wholly by its visible effects. Its tendency may 
be counteracted, and the effects it should produce be pre- 
vented, by a variety of causes. And many of its best effects 
may not be visible. They lie in secret, out of sight of the 
world, known only to the conscience, and to Him, who 
searches the heart. 

But the judgment of the world will be formed, and indeed 
must be, wholly from visible effects. This judgment will 
be sometimes erroneous. A wrong value will he set upon 
the different external evidences of religion which appear. 
What is splendid and showy, will usually be preferred, 
in the popular estimation, to the solid and substantial. And 
often will the unostentatious graces, such as meekness, hu- 
manity, integrity, the social and domestic virtues, be over- 
looked ; while the external signs of sanctity and zeal in re- 
ligion, public charities, and the strict observance of religious 



17 

rites, are exalted and celebrated. Yet we must not allow 
ourselves to follow the judgment of the world, and so to be 
influenced by its estimate of actions, as to give our pre- 
ference to these, rather than to those. Let those fruits of 
a religious faith, and those marks of the christian character, 
which are of intrinsic worth and importance, without un- 
dervaluing or neglecting the rest, receive our first attention. 
These do, but leave not the others undone. 

There is another ground of discrimination which must not 
be overlooked. It is that which relates to the act and the 
motive, — to that which is external and visible, and that 
which is internal and unseen in religion; that which appeals 
to the world, and can be judged by men, and that which 
lies in the heart, subject to the inspection and judgment of 
Him only, who searches the heart. It is not enough, that 
our christian faith shows itself in irreproachable conduct in 
all the social and domestic relations, in the external deco- 
rum of morals, in the public offices of piety, in provision 
for the institutions of religion. All this may be hollow and 
hypocritical, or defective in the motive. Our faith must 
carry its influence into the recesses of the heart, regulate 
the temper, subdue the passions, subject all to the domin- 
ion of conscience, and thus lay a restraint upon that conduct 
and those thoughts and affections, which are concealed from 
the observation of man, and are known only to the witness 
and judge of all. 

I lay stress upon this, and would be the more earnest in 
urging its importance ; not only because it is important in a 
degree, which can hardly be estimated ; but also, because 
Unitarians have been sometimes reproached with being de- 
ficient in the religion of the heart. It is represented to be 
a cold and heartless system, — amusing itself with criticism 
c 



18 

and speculation, but not reaching the conscience, not warm- 
ing the affections ; — satisfied with the external decencies of 
piety, but imparting none of its fervour ; a stranger to that 
deep feeling of interest, which will lead to exertions and 
sacrifices in the cause of truth, in promoting the glory of 
God, and in communicating and diffusing those truths, which 
are to enlighten, and sanctify, and bless the world. This 
reproach, my brethren, must be wiped away. — But how 
wiped away ? Not by asserting merely, nor even by de- 
monstrating, that our opinions are not less affecting, nor 
less practical, than those, which we reject. For this may 
not be understood, and will not convince. It must be done 
by exemplif}rrng their tendency in the actual effects they pro- 
duce. If there be any just ground for the reproach, cer- 
tain it is that the fault lies, not in the faith we embrace, 
but in us, who have embraced it, without yielding our- 
selves up to its whole purifying and renovating influence. 
Let this thought rebuke and humble us, and inspire us 
with better resolutions. While we assert with confidence, 
that no views of the character, and will, and purposes of 
God, can be calculated to make a deeper impression, than 
ours, on the heart and conscience, and no system of doc- 
trine represent more forcibly the value and necessity of 
holiness, let us prove that we are perfectly sincere in 
this assertion, by giving evidence of its controling influ- 
ence over the whole conduct of our lives. 

We must refute also in a similar manner by our practice, 
another allegation which has sometimes been brought against 
the doctrine which we cherish and profess : — that having 
its foundation not in scripture, but in human reason, it in- 
spires us with but little reverence for the scriptures ; and 
that in supporting and defending it, we set aside or pervert 
the scriptures, and set up human reason in opposition to 



19 

their authority. If this charge be founded in truth, it will 
indeed justify the alarm, which has been industriously 
sounded abroad ; and the apprehension of the serious chris- 
tian, that the foundation of his faith is undermined, and 
that mere natural religion is to take the place of Divine 
Revelation, will not be without just cause. 

But how little foundation there is for such a charge, may 
be seen by him, who is willing to see, in the use which we 
make of the scriptures, and in the manner in which we ap- 
peal to them, as being in their literal and obvious meaning 
the sole foundation of those opinions by which we are dis- 
tinguished. It may be seen also, in the active part we take 
in their distribution ; in the labours and researches by 
which Unitarians, it may be confidently said, not less than 
any other denomination of christians, have, within the last 
half century, contributed to promote the understanding of 
the scriptures, and to ascertain their genuineness and au- 
thority, and to restore them, where they have been cor- 
rupted, to their primitive state ; and to recommend them to 
the love and reverence of mankind, by displaying their ex- 
cellency and perfection, and showing their consistency with 
unperverted reason. 

If individual writers, of high character and standing, have 
occasionally used expressions, which have been understood 
to derogate from the authority of the scriptures, and to ex- 
alt human reason above the revealed law of God, they are 
sentiments which are far from being received by Unitarians 
generally. I know of no sentiment in which Unitarians are 
more entirely agreed, than in the absolute authority of Di- 
vine Revelation. It is this very sentiment, and their rever- 
ence for the scriptures in which it is contained, that has 
enkiodled their zeal, and called forth their labours, and led 



20 



thein to push their inquiries into their authenticity, that they 
may free them from corruption, — that they may understand 
their meaning — that they may know what are the doctrines 
which they reveal, — and that they may not mistake for 
truths of revelation, what are nothjng more than human in- 
ventions. 

We are to refute the charge of a want of reverence for 
the scriptures, not by ceasing from these exertions, but by 
pursuing them with still more industry and zeal : and by 
faithfully presenting before the public the fruit of our la- 
bours : — that misapprehensions of their design and tenden- 
may be removed, and mirepresentations detected, by the 
opportunity thus afforded to all, who will, of knowing what 
they are, and of judging for themselves. 

There is one other point, on which we are called upon to 
correct impressions, which have heen extensively excited, 
and have been the occasion of strong prejudices against our 
doctrine. We are represented as degrading the person of 
the Saviour, and undervaluing the offices he sustained and 
his merits and services. 



We are not to be surprised nor offended, that representa- 
tions like these, whenever they are believed to be founded 
in truth, should make an unfavourable impression, and ex- 
cite a strong spirit of hostility. And by what means are 
the effects of such representations to be counteracted, but 
by patiently repeating the correct statement of our views 
as often as we shall hear reiterated the accusation, that we 
" deny the Lord that bought us," and that we place the Sa- 
viour only on a level with the heathen Philosophers and 
Lawgivers, and other instructers and benefactors of man- 
kind. It must be our care, that the exposition of our views 



21 

shall reach those, who have been accustomed to learn our 
doctrines only from those, who were ignorant what they 
are, or who were willing to exaggerate or to misrepresent 
them. 

No charge can be more groundless, than that those, who 
deny the supreme divinity of Jesus Christ, rank him only 
with the heathen sages and moralists, with Confucius and 
Zoroaster, with Numa and Socrates. To them we attri- 
bute only human wisdom and hum;in authority ; but to 
him, a divine commission, a wisdom and authority from heav- 
en ; for, as he proved his divine mission by works, which 
no man could perform except God were with him, so we 
give full credit to his word, when he said, — " The doctrine 
which I teach is not mine, hut his who sent me." The dif- 
ference, then, that we place between him and them, is the 
difference between divine and human authority, between 
finite and infinite wisdom. Nor is this all. We regard 
him not merely as a true prophet and messenger of God, 
and thus on a level with those, who had before been em- 
ployed to reveal the will and execute the purposes of hea- 
ven, — such as Moses and the ancient prophets. We regard 
him as far exalted above them, in the dignity of his char- 
acter, in the purposes of his mission, in the fulness and 
extent of the divine power communicated to him, and in 
the benefits, which he came to confer upon men. Do we 
degrade him, because we deny him that independent power 
and authority, which he disclaimed himself? Do we dishon- 
our him, when we refuse him an equality with that Being, 
whom he acknowledged as his God, — by whom, he was sou 
into the world as a messenger of love and peace, and to 
whom he prayed as his Father and God ? Are we justly 
liable to the imputation of lowering the merits of the Sa- 
viour, and diminishing the value of his services, of denying 



22 

the Lord that bought us, and leaving no place for gratitude 
and a sense of obligation for our redemption by his blood, 
— while we believe and preach, that he was, what a 
voice from heaven declared him to be, and all that he him- 
self ever claimed to be,— the beloved Son of God, — whom 
the Father sanctified and sent into the world ; — sent into 
the world, on the most merciful and important errand ; — that 
of delivering mankind from the bondage of corruption, and 
the guilt and condemnation of sin ;— that of restoring them to 
the favour of God, by recovering the divine image in 
them ;— that of redeeming them from sin, the wages of 
which is death ; — that of reconciling them to God by recon- 
ciling them to his law, and, by his instructions, example, and 
especially the revelation of a future state, bringing them to 
repentance, obedience, and a holy life. 

Having now performed the duty which the occasion de- 
mands, and which, from my relation to the pastor elect, seemed 
naturally to devolve upon me, it only remains for me to ex- 
press my good wishes, to you, my son, and to the church 
and society of which you are this day to take the pastoral 
charge. I know that you have not come to this occasion 
without great solicitude. I trust also you have not done it 
without faithful self-examination, and a full view of all the 
duties, and trials, and dangers of the arduous and responsi- 
ble station which you are called to fill ; and I can fully sym- 
pathise with you, in all the tumultuous feelings of this day. 
He who has once experienced, can never forget them. The 
lapse of more than thirty years, filled up with a variety of 
interests and duties, of changes and trials, have still left 
fresh upon my memory the deep and tender feelings of an 
occasion like this ; — the same that now rush with all 
their agitating and overwhelming force upon your mind. 
You think, of the office to which you are called, the most 



23 

solemn that a mortal can sustain — of the duties connected 
with it, arduous, difficult and constant, allowing no inter- 
mission and no relaxation — of the important interests which 
may be affected by the degree of fidelity with which you 
shall discharge those duties, — interests, not of an individual, 
but of many, who may receive an influence from your 
ministry — interests, not of a trifling or transient nature, but 
the most important and permanent — and of the high respon- 
sibility which he sustains, upon whose fidelity and success so 
great interests are depending ; the labour, and difficulty, and 
responsibility of the pastoral relation, great in themselves, 
increased, and rendered still more appalling to a suscepti- 
ble mind, by the circumstances attending your particular 
non. 

These views let me urge you to indulge, not for the pur- 
pose of feeding a gloomy imagination, but as incentives to 
exertion, and motives to greater zeal, and activity, and dili- 
gence, that you may be equal to the exigency, and fill worthi- 
ly the place which providence has allotted you. And let me 
persuade you also, to lay open your mind to more cheering 
fiewi and encouraging considerations, and to accustom your- 
self to dwell on the bright side of things — to think of the 
satisfaction as well as the labours, the joys as well ;is the 
trials, of a faithful ministry. When you are tempted to de- 
sponding apprehensions of having laboured in vain, and ex- 
hausted your strength for no profit — dispel the gloom that 
gathers around you by thinking of the exquisite joy, that 
must spring from every instance of success, you shall be 
able to witness ; when you shall see one sinner converted 
from the errour of his way by your preaching, one waver- 
ing mind confirmed in truth and virtue, or one thoughtless 
and unreflecting, roused to attention to the most important 
interests of an immortal being ; the consolations of the Gos- 



24 

pel and the hopes of religion applied effectually to a single 
penitent, who was sinking under the fears and terrors of a 
guilty conscience, or to a single sufferer, bending beneath 
the pressure of sorrow and affliction. 

Accustom yourself to the cheering recollection, that you 
serve the best of masters, and in his service are engaged in 
the best of causes — that in promoting the interests of reli- 
gion, advancing the Redeemers kingdom, and bringing men 
to the love of holiness, righteousness and truth, you are as- 
sociated with apostles and prophets, with saints and mar- 
tyrs, with all good men, and all pure and perfect spirits. In 
such society, conscious of the highest and best purposes and 
views, and assured of the countenance and approbation of 
wise and good men, and of the approving smiles of Heaven ; 
well may the cause in which you are engaged inspire you 
with courage, and give you firmness and hope. Be faithful 
to God, who has called you to his service in the gospel of 
his Son ; and faithful to the people who have invited you to 
be their pastor, under circumstances of peculiar interest to 
them and to their children, and imposing corresponding du- 
ties of a solemn nature upon you. Be faithful, and you 
need not fear. Put your trust in God, and he will sustain 
you. Do his work faithfully, and he will own and bless 
you. 

To the Church and Society, who have invited us to meet 
them on this occasion, and to exprees our sympathy by our 
presence and aid in the ordination of a minister, we now 
tender our good wishes, and would heartily reciprocate the 
kind feelings and christian fellowship of the occasion. 

We have looked, brethren, with unmingled satisfaction 
on your pious purpose, on the course you have pursued to 



25 

accomplish it, and on the whole progress of your infant so- 
ciety ; and we now rejoice with you in its completion, and 
the success of your exertions, and unite with you in 
fervent prayers to God for his benediction. And we deem 
it our duty thus to express distinctly to you and to the world, 
what is indeed implied in our presence and participation in 
the solemn transactions of this day, — our approbation of your 
design, and of the spirit in which you have pursued it to its 
accomplishment. We regard with unfeigned gratification 
the principles upon which you have proceeded, and that 
strong sense of duty, and love of truth and tenderness of 
conscience, which have made you willing, in obedience to 
what you believe to be the call of duty, to submit to sa- 
crifices and inconvenience, and to all the evils incident to 
the disruption of those strong ties, which bind together 
christians, who are accustomed to worship in company; and 
thus to incur odium, and expose yourselves to opposition 
from those, whom you regard as christian brethren, with 
whom it is your wish to live in peace, and in the offices and 
intercourse of christian love. 

In the seriousness, intelligence, and sobriety of character, 
which arc witnessed with great satisfaction by your friend.-, 
and which we understand are allowed you by those, who 
have no friendly feelings toward your system of faith, and 
form of worship : and in your steady course in forming a 
christian society, differing in its constitution and articles of 
faith, from the churches by which you are surrounded, and 
from which you have withdrawn : in doing this without os- 
tentatious display, and without touching the rights, or dis- 
turbing the prejudices of others, as sincere and as conscien- 
tious as yourselves : in erecting this house for the worship 
of God, and making provision for the settlement of a minis- 
ter, and the regular observance of christian ordinances here. 

P 



26 

we have a pledge that you will not dishonour yourselves, 
and the cause of truth and christian liberty, by any thing 
inconsistent with the principles upon which you profess to 
act in separating from your brethren. 

These circumstances assure us, that while you are suf- 
ficiently decided in your religious opinions, and persuaded 
of their value and importance ; and are not wanting in zeal 
to maintain, and resolution to defend them, as there may be 
occasion : you will never allow yourselves to contract 
either the narrowness or the bitterness of a sectarian spirit. 
You will endeavour to exhibit the proofs of a pure faith, 
not by denouncing the faith, or calling in question the mo- 
tives of others, but by the fruits of it in the holy, and gen- 
tle, and peaceful spirit of the Gospel, 

We trust to see this church, established on principles of 
christian liberty and independence, built up in the purity 
and order of the Gospel, contending earnestly for the 
faith, which was once delivered to the saints, resolutely as- 
serting the liberty with which Christ has made you free ; 
cultivating kindness and good will among yourselves, and 
toward your fellow christians of every other denomination ; 
maintaining the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace, 
amidst all the diversities of faith incident to imperfect and 
fallible beings. 

Brethren, our hearts are with you, and our prayers for 
you ascend up to Him, who is able to uphold, and sanctify, 
and save you. We cherish the firm persuasion, that our 
confidence in you is not misplaced ; that it will be justified 
by the event ; that we shall continue to hear a good report 
of your faith, and piety, and charity, and that you stand fast 



27 

in the liberty and the hope of the Gospel. And may the 
God of peace be with you and bless you. 

Christians of every denomination nnd every form of faith 
are invited by the occasion, and by the view which has 
been taken in this discourse, to make themselves acquainted 
with the true value and importance of those points of faith, 
and circumstances of form, in which they differ from each 
other ; that they may not, by magnifying their importance, 
widen the distance, already too great, at which they stand 
from each other. At the same time, let them recollect the 
the number and importance of those articles, which we all 
hold in common. They w ill find that there is a broad and 
6olid foundation upon which they may stand together, and 
on which, if we deserve the name of him, whose very birth 
was announced by the proclamation of peace and "rood will, 
they will be willing to stand peaceably. It is believed that 
an exercise of this kind, faithfully performed, would cor- 
rect much of the asperity, and give some check to the cen- 
sorious spirit, which we so often, and with so much re- 
gret, have occasion to witness. Christian*, w ho now reluct- 
antly and not without qualifications, allow each other the 
christian name and christian rights, would learn to embrace 
as brethren, and be at peace. They would use some en- 
deavours still to maintain unity of spirit, where they find 
themselves unable to arrive at uniformity of faith ; and to 
manifest the love and goodwill of brethren, wherever they 
meet with the profession of christian faith, and the appa- 
rent influence of christian principles and motives, — though 
not able to agree, as to articles of doctirne, modes of wor- 
ship, and forms of discipline. 

Oh, when shall w r e see the day return, which, restoring the 
primitive faith, shall recover with it the primitive spirit of 



28 



the Gospel : — when the spirit which once dwelt in the dis- 
ciples of the Prince of Peace shall revive again, and the 
mark which he fixed on his followers, shall again distinguish 
them : By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, 
if ye love one another. 



CHARGE. 

By AARON BANCROFT, D. D. of Worcester, Mass. 



You, Reverend William Ware, being regularly consti- 
tuted a Christian Bishop, and this Church and Society of 
our Divine Lord being committed to your pastoral care ; 
the Ecclesiastical Council introducing you, have appointed 
me, in their name, to charge you " to take heed to your 
ministry, that you fulfil it." 

You, I doubt not, have seriously reflected on the import- 
ance and responsibility of the office which you now fill. 
You bring into the profession, we are persuaded, not only a 
mind enriched with the treasures of science and literature, 
but also imbued with a love of christian truth, and animated 
with a desire to promote the merciful purposes of the Gos- 
pel; that you have devoted every faculty of your mind, 
and every affection of your heart to your vocation. Unless 
you possess the spirit of your master, unless the love of 
God and man be your actuating principles, your ministerial 
character will be artificial, your ministerial labours will be 
irksome to yourself, and unsatisfactory to your people. 
Elevate, then, your views by the contemplation of the worth 



30 



of our religion, as it provides a remedy for the pollutions of 
sin, secures a conquest over the empire of death, and opens 
to us, as the end of our christian course, the glories of im- 
mortality. 

Fortify your resolutions, invigorate your diligence, and 
enliven your zeal, by serious reflections on the design, 
the nature, and tendency of the christian ministry. Rea- 
lize that religion is as necessary to your personal happiness, 
as the qualifications of the christian are essential to the faith- 
ful performance of the duties of your ministerial office. 
Strive, then, by self-examination, by watchfulness and prayer, 
to acquire the attributes of Him, whose disciple and minis- 
ter you are. Then your foundation will be a stable sup- 
port under all the conflicts of your profession ; and your 
ministrations, possessing the natural warmth of sincerity, 
the life of truth, and the glow of charity, will be received 
with confidence, delight, and edification. 

I would refer you to the solemn charges of St. Paul to 
his sons Timothy and Titus, for the important rules by which 
you should direct your preaching, and govern your life. 
Make them your daily study. Carry into the examination 
of scripture a mind free from prejudice. Separate human 
adulterations from the pure word of truth. Avail yourself 
of all the light furnished by fair biblical criticism, and will- 
ingly receive the assistance of those who have facilitated our 
study of the bible, by explaining the customs and manners 
prevalent at the time the sacred writings were composed, 
and by showing the particular purpose of distinct parts of 
them. But you will admit no human master in theology. 
Judge for yourself, and form your opinions on the result 
of impartial investigation, and diligent and serious delibera- 
tion, that you may give a reason for your faith and your 
hope. 



31 

You may have occasion to speak openly and boldly in 
defence of doctrines that are according to godliness, and to 
contend earnestly for the faith once delivered to the saints. 
Support with all your power the pure religion of the New 
Testament. But while you freely bring the opinions of 
those, who are opposed to you, to the test of reason and 
revelation, indulge not in yourself, nor encourage in others, 
the spirit of reprobation towards their characters. Judg- 
ment is with God. 

In composing your discourses, consider the design of pub- 
lic preaching, and always endeavour to inform the under- 
standing, to convince the judgment, and to move the hearts 
of your hearer?. Avoid the unnecessary use of technical 
phraseology. Tins has constantly a changing meaning, even 
With learned theologians ; and its tendency is to make com- 
mon christians bigots, to form them to a captious disposition, 
and to lead them to contend without knowledge about mere 
words. State the evidences of our religion in all their 
force. Explain the important doctrines of the gospel in 
familiar language ; inculcate its duties iu their variety, and 
with their appropriate motives. 

In manner, avoid noisy declamation and vehement action ; 
but imitate the tenderness, the pathos, the natural and mov- 
ing eloquence, with which our Saviour addressed the multi- 
tudes that followed him. 

Youth you will make the object of peculiar attention. En- 
deavour early to open their minds to right views of the 
christian religion, and deeply to impress their hearts with 
- icred maxims. Teach them that God is as good, as he 
i> wise and great, as merciful as just ; that they may love 
his character, confide in his promises, and expect from him 



32 

the blessing of a kind parent, while they sustain the charac* 
ter of dutiful children. Unfold to their comprehension the 
mild and gracious provisions of the gospel. In language 
adapted to their years, instruct them in the conditions of 
salvation through a Saviour ; let them know that the require- 
ments of the gospel are suited to the capacity of every dis- 
ciple, that its assistance is proportionate to human weakness, 
that sincerity of aims and endeavours is the term of Divine 
acceptance, that the offender is permitted to renew himself 
by repentance, and that God is ready to bestow the rewards 
of Heaven on all who cultivate the dispositions requisite to 
enjoy them. 

On these methods of public instruction, implore the 
blessing of God ; and then you may expect that the people 
of your charge will be established in the faith, grounded and 
settled, and will not be moved away from the hope of the 
gospel ; that the sublime doctrines, and essential truths of 
revelation will dwell in their minds, not as a dead letter, but 
a quickening spirit, purifying their affections, and regulating 
their lives ; that in them Christianity will consist, not in the 
acuteness of metaphysical distinctions, not in the emotions of 
animal passion, but as a consistent principle of moral prac- 
tice, influencing them to fill up the measure of their dut} r . 
From a regard to the authority of God, and in view of the fu~ 
ture recompence of reward. 

As the presiding officer of this church, perform your own 
duty with due respect to the rights of its members, and think 
them not your enemies, when their judgment is opposed to 
yours concerning measures of common interest. Guard the 
institutions of the gospel from pollution, but deny not its 
privileges to any, who desire them on christian principles. 



33 

On proper examination approbate candidates to preach the 
glad tidings of salvation, and introduce pastors elect into the 
ministerial office. Never lay hands on the man, with whose 
moral, literary, and theological qualifications for usefulness 
place of labour, you are not satisfied : but make not 
your own religion* opinions the standard by which to mea- 
sure the fitness of other men for the ministry ; bur 
ily grant to all the right of private judgment, which you 
claim for yourself. 

While you diligently attend to the important branches of 
your public duty, remember that you are bound to i' 
and persuade by example. 

Maintain in every situation the appropriate character and 
manners of a clergyman. Be not ambitions to emulate the 
expense and splendour of wealthy and fashionable circles . 
the attempt will prove fruitless ; but it will be cons 
you as a mark of a weak and frivolous mind. Rise to nobler 
distinctions. Make it manifest that, like your divine n< 
your meat and drink is, to do the will of your Heavenly Fa 

aid to accomplish the work assigned you. Tl 
votion of affection aim and effort to the moral pur]" 
your office will be no hindrance to the proper e 
the rights of hospitality, no diminution of the satisfactory 
enjoyments of a social and friendly intercourse with the 
people of your charge. Your society will not require those 
faintly visits, or personal attentions which would essentially 
encroach on the time you ought to employ in your private 
studies ; but they will expect, that you identify yourself 
with their best interests, discover a disposition to rejoice 
with them in their prosperity, feel a sympathy with them 
in their afflictions and sorrows, and that in all the events of 
life you prove their kind friend and disinterested adviser. 

E 



34 

I hey will expect, thai }'ou appear as the wise counsellor, 
the faithful guide, and affectionate father of their children. 
By this attention and tenderness, you will endear yourself 
to this people, and permanently secure their confidence, 
respect and love. 

Permit me to remind you of the peculiar circumstances 
of your location. You, in common with all other young 
ministers, must at once enter on all the sublime and difficult 
branches of the pastoral office ; while the members of other 
learned professions gradually rise to their higher official du- 
ties as the experience of years gives them maturity of wis- 
dom and judgment. In addition to this, your situation will 
be attended with duties uncommonly arduous, and with diffi- 
culties peculiarly trying. The circumstances under which 
your society is formed will present them and you, in an un- 
usual manner, as objects of public attention. Every step 
in your course will be strictly watched, and ordinary excel- 
lence will not secure to you general approbation. Your 
station will bring to the test your talents and resolution, 
your christian temper and prudence, your firmness and con- 
stancy. Covet then earnestly the best gifts ; and let your 
profiting appear to all men. Strive to give the ministerial 
character high respectability, and to rise to distinguished 
professional eminence. Strive for ever increasing attain- 
ments in all ministerial qualifications, for yet rising official 
reputation, and for yet more extensive usefulness. 

God Almighty bless thee, my brother. May he give 
clearness to thine understanding, and fill thy soul with the 
love of divine truth. May he add length to thy life, and 
lustre to thine example. May he grant success to thy la- 
bour, and to thy fidelity the crown of glory. 



RIGHT HAND OF FELLOWSHIP. 

By HENRY WARE, A. M. of Boston. 



We read in the early history of tlie Gospel, that when 
James and Cephas and John perceived the grace that 

:i to Barnabas and Paul, they gave to them " the right 
hands of fellowship ;" — intimating, that although they * 

separate upon different and distant service-, yet their 
purpose was one, and with one spirit affection and zeal they 
would initially aid the labours of their departed brethren. 

It is in conformity to this example of the Apostles, that 
when a christian brother has been introduced to the oti 

of the ministry, by prayer and the Living on of the hands of 
the presbytery ; he is then welcomed to the fellowship of 
his fathers an I brethren, by the salutation of the right hand. 
By this act they acknowledge his equal standing and author- 
ity in the church, they profess their readiness to exchange 
all the civilities and courtesies of christian intercourse, and 
they offer the congratulations and fellowship of the churches 
to him, and to the llock which has received him as a pastor. 

Arul tlii- i- certainly a beautiful and interesting illustra- 
tion of the spirit of that religion, which teaches that Christ 
only is master, and that all his disciples are brethren. For 



36 



-n this act, the aged, the most experienced mid most wise, are 
seen uniting to present the hand of a brother to the young 
and inexperienced ; at once welcoming him to a participa- 
tion of equal honours and cares, laying on him the hands of 
paternal blessing, and, by their affectionate counsels and ad- 
monitions, encouraging and animating his trembling spirit : — 
Not in the exercise of superior authority, for they claim 
noue ; not as masters, :ur they are themselves but servants 
of the great master. But as his servants, in whose cause 
some have grown grey, and for whom all are read}' to la- 
bour, and, if need be, sutler, so that his kingdom may be ad- 
vanced, — as his servants, the}' rejoice to greet another ser- 
vant and fellow labourer ; and while they conduct him into 
the vineyard, to acknowledge in him, by a simple ceremo- 
nial, the pretensions and claims and honours which, as the 
disciples of a common Lord, he sharesln common with them. 
They remember that even an Apostle declared, Vv"e have 
no dominion over your faith, but would be helpers of your 
joy. And their Lord himself has said, The princes of the 
gentiles exercise dominion over them, but it shall not be so 
amongst you. Therefore, when they have brought to the 
throne of Eternal Mercy their supplications for a blessing 
from the good spirit of God, and have reminded the candi- 
date of the solemn charge of souls committed to him, and his 
final account — then, lest he should be oppressed and dis- 
heartened by the prospect before him, they step forward 
with the supporting hand, they pledge themselves to him, as 
equals and brethren, to assist his toils, to countenance his 
exertions, to co-operate with his designs, to labour with him 
when they may be able, and never to withhold their counsels 
and prayers. 



With these views, my dear Brother, this Ecclesiastical 
Council have directed me to give you the Right Hand of 



J7 

their Christian Fellowship. Accept it in their 1 name, and as 
their act. Accept it as their acknowledgement of your min- 
isterial character, the pledge of their counsel and aid, their 
testimony before God and man that they will treat you, and 
aid you, an.1 pray for you, as a minister of the Lord Jei 
Christ. — The Elders and Messengers of the assembled 
churches salute you. Your fathers in Christ salute you. and 
wish you peace. Your brothers in the Lord salute you, and 
bid you welcome to a place by their side as a herald of par- 
don and life — welcome, to the cares and duties, to the honom 1 
and pleasures, to the difficulties, trials, and hopes, of the 
ministry of the NY\\ Testament — welcome, as a supporter of 
the I the glory of God and the salvation of man: 

and ' ech God to bless you as the P • ibis 

church, as an ambass idor i 

lorious, uncoi rupted, truth. 

I can bardl) Bay, with what raixt feelings I have performe c 

this duty. To - I with the office of the chris 

tian ministry, to ad i as pastor of a christian church 

— especially of a church in whose anxieties I have bo larg 

participated, and for whose welfare I have been so deeply 

solicitous — gives me the most heartfelt satisfaction. I had 

hoped, indeed, that we should not he thus thrown apart from 

h other ; but that being engaged in the same pursuits with 

the sain - we might be permitted to pursue together 

our appointed course, and walk arm in arm our pilgrin 

to heaven. But Providence has ordained to you another 

path of duty ; and you must labour, at a distance from youi 

early friends, in a new field, bc?et with untried dangers, and 

a double array of perplexity and care. But you are nol 

helpless nor alone : — you have friends around you on 

whom you can confidently lean. You are not helpless n<u 

alone. — for Clod i* with you; his strength shall be made per 



38 



feet in your weakness, and his grace be sufficient for you. 
Separated we may be ; but there is the same hand to guide, 
the same hope to cheer us : — and when finally separated on 
earth, their is a happier meeting, and a better ministry, in 
heaven. 

Brethren of this Church and Congregation: The Church- 
es of our Lord, by their Elders and Messengers, salute you, 
and to you also offer their fellowship, wishing you grace, 
mercy, and peace. They have sympathised with you in 
your toils, they have honoured you in your perseverance, 
and they now rejoice with you in your prosperity. They 
believe and trust that the}' discern the smiles of a favouring 
Providence, declaring that this is the cause of truth, and 
righteousness, and God; and while you so earnestly pro- 
mote it, they put forth their hands to you, and bid you God 
speed. May that Being, who watched over the infant gos- 
pel, when it struggled into existence in the midst of a scorn- 
ing and opposing world — who strengthened and cheered its 
first teachers and professors when persecution and death 
were their only earthly possessions, and enabled them to 
triumph, when man would have made them despair — who 
lighted up again the dying torch of truth at the Reformation, 
and was the shield and friend of the holy martyrs, who urged 
forward that glorious work amidst obloquy, torture, and fire — 
who has always honored the fearless confessors of his truth, 
and is the never failing patron of the faithful disciples of his 
beloved Son — may HE spread over you the broad wing of 
his protection, and lead you by the light of his truth ; and 
make the gospel you profess, your strength and consolation 
here, and your salvation hereafter. 



Brethren, farewell. Go on, in God's name, and prosper. 
Tor our brethren and companions' sake, we say, Peace ba 



39 

unto to you. Peace be within your walls, and prosperity 
within your palaces. Onty — let your conversation be as 
becometh the gospel of Christ; that whether we come and 
see you, or else be absent, we mny hear of your affairs, that 
ye stand fast in one spirit, with one mind, striving together 
for the faith of the gospel. 



The other religious services on this occasion 
were as follows : Introductory Prayer, by Rev. 
James Taylor, of Philadelphia; Ordaining 
Prayer, by Rev. T. M. Harris, D. D. of Dor- 
chester, Mass.: Concluding Prayer, by Rev. 
John Pierpont, of Boston. 

The following Hymn, written for the occasion by Mr. Pier- 
pont, was sang after the Ordaining Prayer. 

O Thou who art above all height ! 

Our God, our Father and our Friend ! 
Beneath thy throne of love and light, 

Let thine adoring children bend. 

We kneel in praise, — that here is set 

A vine that by thy culture grew ; 
We kneel ia prayer— that thou would'st wet 

Its opening leaves witli heavenly dew. 

Since thy young servant now hath given 
Himself, his powers, his hopes, his youth, 

To the great cause of truth and Heaven : 
Be thou his guide, O God of truth ! 



40 

Here may his doctrine drop like rain. 

His speech like Hermon's dew distil, 
Till green fields smile, and golden grain, 

Ripe for the harvest, waits thy will. 

And when he sinks in death ; by care, 
Or pain, or toil, or years opprest ; 

O God ! remember then our prayer, 
And take his spirit to thy rest. 



DISCOURSE, 



TREACIIED IN THE 



FIRST CONGREGATIONAL UNITARIAN CHURCH, 



<>\ THE MORNING OF THE LORD'S DAY, 



MAY 2 1. 1829, 



OCCASIONED r.Y Tin: RE< i:m i m vnciiation or the 

SOMAN CATHOLICS THROUGHOUT THE 

BRITISH r.^n [RE. 



BY WILLIAM II. FURNESS. 



JJhflalKLpIu'a : 

PRINTED FOR R. H. SMALL, 

A.\P SOLD BY 

R. H. SMALL. CAREY, LEA Sc CAREY, AND J. M0R7 
James Kay t Jvn. Sf Co. Printers, Library Si. 

1829. 



PUBLISHED BY REQUEST OF THE SOCIETY. 




I 



DISCOURSE 



MATTHEW, XVI. 27. 

The son of man shall come in the glory of his father, with h\s 
angels; and then he shall reward every man according to his works. 

In the minds of the personal attendants of Jesus, already 
highly wrought up by the hope of the wealth and power 
that would follow upon the supernatural manifestation of 
the Messiah, this assurance of their master must have cre- 
ated a deep joy. He, to whom their vast expectations had 
attached themselves, was clad indeed in the humble garb 
of an ordinary individual. No crown of gold covered that 
head which had not where to repose. No sceptre graced 
that hand which was busy in administering to human dis- 
tress in its lowest and most loathsome forms. There was 
nothing in the external appearance of Jesus that corres- 
ponded to the ideas his followers had formed of the Messiah. 
Indeed there was a great deal in his deportment so directly 
opposed to all their previous conceptions, that their faith in 
him must have been often and severely tried. Still he 
showed himself possessed of extraordinary powers, and his 



singular dignity of character must have inspired respect and 
confidence. And when he explicitly assured them, as he 
did in the text, " that he would come in the glory of his 
Father with his angels," what increased animation must 
have been imparted to their hopes! They no doubt mo- 
mently expected that he would throw off his disguise and 
array himself in preternatural light, and summon from the 
skies a celestial host and lead his disciples on to universal 
dominion and boundless enjoyment. They looked for some 
dazzling exhibition of the divine power and for the visible 
shapes of angels. 

While, in this earthly state of their minds, the disciples 
founded such expectations on the language of their master, 
I do not believe that he himself intended to promise any 
outward, visible display, any spectacle of external glory. 
I do not believe that he meant that he himself was coming, 
personally, surrounded by an excess of natural light and 
attended by a throng of heavenly forms. For, in imme- 
diate connection with the text, he declares that there were 
those then living, standing by, who would see the Son of 
Man coming in his kingdom, in his glory. Now we know 
that no external exhibition of the Messiah's personal glory, 
such as this passage is commonly supposed to promise, 
took place in that generation. 

Again, the whole spirit of our Lord's religion and cha- 
racter forbids us to interpret his language as referring to 
any visible appearance of himself in heavenly glory. He 
came not to dazzle the sight but to bless the mind, to purify 
the spiritual principle from all the illusions of the senses. 
He aspired to the glory not of natural — but of moral power. 
He was himself too spiritual to be attracted by the pros- 
pect of a personal display, even though it should be extra- 
ordinary and unearthly. His glory, like the true glory of 



God, was inward and invisible. It did not address the eye, 
but the mind, the heart. When, therefore, we hear Jesus 
Christ speaking of power and glory, we must interpret his 
language according to the elevated ideas of power and 
glory which he has given us reason to believe he cherished. 
A third reason for doubting whether the text is to be 
understood literally as announcing an outward glory, a 
visible coming of the Son of Man, is the fact that it is sus- 
ceptible of a much loftier and grander meaning. The Son 
of Man shall come in the glory of his Father with his an- 
gels. Look at Christianity — not that which has been called 
Christianity, not that heartless profession, not that empty 
though imposing ceremonial, not that bitter spirit of sec- 
tarianism that has every where existed in a thousand diver- 
sified tonus, not that iron despotism which the members 
of the Christian church have been continually striving to 
establish over the conscience, and which has cost mankind 
so many tears and so much blood — Oh no! I think not of 
these things when I beg you to look at the religion of Jesus ! 
By Christianity I mean those great but simple truths in which 
all Christians are more or less interested, and upon which the 
welfare and the hopes of our race depend. I refer to the 
glorious account it gives us of the government of the world, 
and of the character of the Being who presides over the 
universe — to the assurance which it imparts respecting the 
lofty uses of human existence. I refer to the useful and 
efficient principles involved in this knowledge of God and 
of our own nature. I am speaking of that moral power 
which, although it has seldom been honoured as Christian 
truth and as God's spirit, is yet the source whence mankind 
individually and collectively derive all their comfort, pros- 
perity, happiness and hope. I am speaking of that to 
which the cause universal of knowledge and freedom owes 
1* 



6 

all its advancement, and to which every instance of exalted 
private excellence is to be ascribed. True, spiritual, living 
Christianity is compounded of those truths upon a convic- 
tion of which the perfect character of Jesus was built. He 
it was who first distinctly announced, and gloriously con- 
firmed them by his works, by his life, and by his death. 

I pray you now consider Christianity as it has thus been 
defined ; observe how it has wrestled with the world, infus- 
ing a nobler strength into human nature, awakening men to 
a sense of their obligations, their opportunities, and their 
rights, and moulding society to better and freer forms. 
Think of its generous ministrations — the new offices of be- 
nevolence which it has created. Pause over the revela- 
tions of moral and intellectual good which it has made and 
is still making, and by which it not only creates a taste, 
but strengthens in the bosom of man a passionate thirst for 
improvement. In fine, consider carefully the new and 
amazing energy that has appeared in the world, and then 
ask yourselves whether Jesus Christ has not come, aye, 
whether he is not still coming in the increasing influence 
and diffused light of his religion, in the triumphant progress 
of his truth, much more expressively, in a much more ele- 
vated sense than if he were personally to appear. Suppose 
now that the heavens over our heads were to be rent in 
twain by announcing trumps blown by a thousand arch- 
angels, and that the Son of Man were to be seen, irra- 
diated by celestial light, and surrounded by a host that 
no man could count, we should no doubt be stricken 
to the earth in admiration and awe. Still, all-imposing as 
the spectacle would be, I do not believe that it would 
give us so deep and real a sense of the power and glory 
of Jesus Christ as we may now obtain by considering 
the extraordinary development of his religion. We should 



have a human form indeed and human features present to 
the eye. But to denote the character of Jesus, to lay bare his 
spirit, to show us the moral and intellectual individual, in all 
his immortal proportions, what would form and features be 
in comparison with the illustration of the great Deliverer, 
which we now enjoy in the unfolded benefits — in the extend- 
ed success of his works, in the power of his religion. His reli- 
gion is in a manner his own spirit, which he breathed forth 
upon the world. And from the stirring and beneficent 
action of this spirit we gather a sense of the worth and 
glory of the Lord Jesus, which no bodily appearance, 
however luminous, could give. We do not see him indeed 
with our eyes, but his spiritual presence is felt — felt within 
us — in our own bosoms, and throughout the whole extent 
iety. 

Regarding the promised coming of the Son of Man in 
this spiritual sense, who now will dare to repeat the scepti- 
cal inquiry of the early scoffers 7 Who now will ask, Where 
• promise of his coming? Who will affirm that all 
things will continue as they were at the beginning? Are we 
not receiving — have we not recently received the most de- 
cisive intimations of the approach of the Son of Man ? Have 
we not seen the chains of ecclesiastical despotism stricken 
oft' from a whole nation ? By one immortal act of legislation 
the doom of an extensive spiritual oppression has been 
sealed. Conscience, long prostrate at the feet of power. 
has risen up at last free. And a new triumph has been 
gained (to use the magic phrase of Irish eloquence bj 
"the irresistible genius of universal emancipation." 

Tn representing the recent acts of the British Senate, 
which are by no means the least remarkable of the extra- 
ordinary events that illustrate this period ; in representing 
these acts as the unequivocal triumphs of Christian truth ; 






8 

as the tokens of the spiritual coming and glory of Christ; 
I do not mean to say, that they were the results of an unal- 
loyed elevated Christian spirit, operating upon the minds 
of statesmen. Gladly would we believe this. But we 
know, for it is not attempted to be concealed, that conside- 
rations of policy have weighed much with some of the im- 
mediate agents in this noble work. Still, it is neverthe- 
less, a real, positive triumph of true Christianity. Upon the 
minds of many of those who have directly contributed to 
it, a genuine and proper spirit may be supposed to have 
operated. But even if we had reason to believe that not a 
single particle of Christian principle influenced the suf- 
frages that have just been given to justice and liberality, 
the case would not be altered — it would still be the triumph 
of Christian truth, the exemplification of the power and 
glory of the Son of Man. It would be very erroneous to 
ascribe the great changes and improvements that now take 
place in the world, to the will of one or a few individuals. 
They who rule mankind now, must do it by sei-ving them; 
by observing and following the general spirit of the times 
— the direction of public opinion. The efficient leader 
now must be led. And if, at the present day, any import- 
ant measures are achieved, we may be very sure that the 
successful impulse has been given by this new and wonder- 
ful power that has arisen in society, the power of opinion. 
It is this which has given a tone of confidence to the re- 
monstrances of the oppressed, and which has in return 
received increasing strength from the firmness and jus- 
tice of their appeals. It is this that has given elo- 
quence and zeal to their advocates in the dominant party. 
It is this that has inspired a mind whose professional 
bias we should suppose was somewhat against it, and made 
one of the greatest generals of the age the sturdy advocate 



of peace. And the highest praise of the political leaders, 
on the occasion of which we speak, is, that they have had sa- 
gacity enough to give timely heed to the distant and approach- 
ing thunders of the swelling tide of public sentiment. 

Now in order to perceive that the credit of the late ad- 
vances of religious freedom is due to Christianity, let me 
ask what has contributed more than Christianity, to the 
creation, increase, and strength of a liberal and enlighten- 
ed public sentiment? Since the religion of Jesus has been 
in the world, the human mind has been becoming familiar, 
to a degree unknown before, with the principles of justice, 
human equality, brotherly love, charity. I would make no 
empty boast, and deal in no loose, general assertions. Con- 
sider the records of the Christian faith ? What books have 
been more widely diffused than these ? What books have 
received a profounder reverence from the human heart? 
And what books contain more frequent and explicit ac- 
knowledgments of the capacities of human nature, more 
fervent exhortations to mutual love, forbearance and charity? 
Where shall we find statements better fitted to animate and 
purify the mind ? To what noble and self-denying labours 
have they given rise ! What elevated characters have 
they helped to form ! To what an unconquerable 
spirit have they ministered in the minds of the wise 
and the good ! Let these bocks remain — the records of 
the Christian faith — the pages through which the chosen 
deliverer of the human mind still instructs the world; let 
them be circulated, read and listened to, and we can never 
despair of the cause of human improvement*. It was when 

* The Protestant should never forget how much he owes to that 
neglected copy of the Scriptures which Luther found in the library of 
his monastery.— Robe* tson's Charles V. 



10 

the Scriptures were locked up from the public eye, that 
the subjugation of the human soul was the most complete. 
Let them be brought out and studied with serious, atten- 
tive, and devout minds. And although men will make the 
most deplorable mistakes, and build upon them the most 
erroneous systems and faith, still all the better principles 
of their nature — their natural sense of justice, of benevo- 
lence, and truth, will be quickened and purified by the ap- 
peals every where made to it in the Bible. This has been 
the case in times past, and Christianity, speaking through 
her records and through the various useful and benevolent 
plans which her spirit has originated, has helped most 
powerfully to familiarise men to the acknowledgment and 
culture of liberal principles. Some one may possibly deny 
this statement in all its extent. This much, however, none 
will question. Every one, the most sceptical, will concede 
that ever since Christianity has been in the world, there has 
been infinitely more said about charity, love, and peace 
than at any former period. Even if there have been perse- 
cution and bloodshed, still there has been the cant of libe- 
rality, and vast pretensions have been made to the most 
comprehensive benevolence. Odious and disgusting as 
this hypocrisy may be, still it is an index of the es- 
timation in which those virtues are held, that so many have 
only assumed. We may be sure that liberal principles have 
come more in fashion, when there is a great deal of cant 
about them. Men do not take the trouble to pretend to 
qualities which are not generally esteemed. The more 
costly and imposing the hypocrisy, the more profound the 
homage which is thereby paid to truth and real goodness. 

The operation of Christianity in disseminating just sen- 
timents, is a vast and exhaustless subject. And it would 
require much time and labour to trace the vital spirit of 



11 

our religion, as it acts upon the infant mind of the indi- 
vidual, by means of instruction, and through our domestic, 
civil and religious institutions, as it silently and slowly col- 
lects strength from innumerable channels, from the influ- 
ence of exalted individuals, and from the experience of 
those benevolent affections which it puts into exercise, 
from the charitable deeds to which it prompts, and the elo- 
quent page which it inspires, until at last it speaks out in 
the great and solemn voice of a nation, and is heard in the 
appeals of an enslaved, or in the shouts of an emancipated 
people. It is unnecessary now to attempt any further de- 
tail. Every one, I think, must perceive that Christianity, 
— not, let me remind you again, not always that system 
which men have called by this name, but the Christianity 
of the New Testament, the Christianity that Christ preach- 
ed, the great law of love and justice which he promulgated, 
with its large duties and the eternal grounds of its obliga- 
tion, — every one, I say, must see that this grand principle 
is doing every thing for the world. It has diffused a better 
spirit. It has dissipated ignorance, and broken down op- 
pression, and given tremendous power to the public voice. 
And this it is which has triumphed most signally in the late 
important events of which we are taking notice. Yes, my 
friends, the emancipation of the Irish catholics is the vic- 
tory of what we who worship in this house consider true 
Christianity. It is a most gratifying instance of the suc- 
cess of our principles. And considered in this light, so 
far from its being vitiated by the supposition that those who 
were the chief actors in this great measure were not guided 
by any very elevated motives, the splendour of the triumph 
is enhanced thereby. For it is manifest that the claims of 
justice and charity have been put forward so powerfully, 
that even they who could not sympathise with them, who 



12 

were opposed to them, have been compelled to submit, nay, 
to be the principal instruments in the work of satisfying 
those claims. Nothing is wanting to the glory of the con- 
quest. The exclusive spirit has been harnessed to the car 
of improvement, and forced, with some show of good will 
at least, to drag it on in its bright and interminable career. 

Considering such events as have recently occurred, such 
advances in legislation as have been made within a year or 
two past as the genuine, although unacknowledged results 
of unadulterated Christianity, do we not also discern in 
them the glorious and powerful coming of the Son of Man ? 
When we connect with the author of Christianity the vast 
and growing benefits which his religion is conferring, how 
does our sense of his dignity and greatness increase ! Al- 
though he is not personally present, yet the words that he 
hath spoken, they are an ever present spirit, they are an 
undying life, operating upon the human mind, creating 
within it " a deep sentiment of its own power," enlarging 
its capacities, and widening the sphere of its action. And 
this, I say, is the high and glorious sense in which the pro- 
mise of our Saviour is fulfilled. " If any man," said he 
upon another occasion, " will keep my commandments, my 
Father will love him, and we will come unto him and make 
our abode with him." In this way he has entered the world 
by his spirit, the spirit of truth. He has not indeed ap- 
peared to the external eye, but he has penetrated to the 
very centre of the spiritual creation. By the principles of 
his religion, he has come down into the very depths of the 
human soul, and opened its living and eternal fountains, and 
filled it with light and power. 

Thus far I have sought to show how the coming of the 
Son of Man is indicated in the striking progress of liberal 
principles. The text suggests another idea. The author 



13 

of Christianity declared that he would come in the glory 
of his Father. What is the glory of the Father ? What 
is the glory of God ? If you are satisfied with the general 
answer, poiver, then where shall we witness a grander de- 
monstration of power than is accorded in the resistless, al- 
though gradual and noiseless operation of Christian truth? 
When the power of God is spoken of, our thoughts in- 
voluntarily turn to the outward works of nature. We look 
abroad over the earth, and into that immensity of space in 
which the earth is but an atom, and we exhaust our won- 
der in gazing upon the stupendous universe. But surely 
it requires but little reflection to perceive that there is a 
display of power still more amazing in these feeble frames 
of animated dust. After all, wc must come back to our 
own bosoms for the greatest wonder. What power is there 
in nature like the power of human intelligence? Confined 
though wc are to this little earth, we can in a manner com- 
prehend the structure and the uses of the vast creation of 
which we are a part, communicate with the remotest ob- 
jects, and make the far off stars subserve the purposes of 
human enterprise. But why need I linger to specify the 
instances of man's power ? The whole earth is changing 
under the plastic hand of human industry. And God hath 
given man power over all the works of his hands. The 
glory of the Deity, then, as a Creator, is seen most brightly 
in the human soul. If so, then his glory in revelation, the 
glory which he displays in Christianity, and which attends 
the Son of Man, is apparent in the power of those princi- 
ples that sway the soul, and call out all its energies. Yes, 
in the mighty operations of Christian truth, we discern the 
glory, the loftiest exercise of the power of God. Man 
stands at the head of the creation, and the principles of 
Christianity are the instruments, the sceptre and the dia- 



14 

dem of his dominion; and in them that glory of the Father, 
in which the Son of Man comes, is visible. Consider what 
power they have been displaying. They are throwing off 
from the human mind the ponderous masses of ignorance and 
superstition which have been accumulating over it for ages. 
Without receiving that reverence which is their due, with- 
out being acknowledged as the essential principles of Chris- 
tianity, they have yet worked mightily. They are gradu- 
ally, but surely, accomplishing the downfall of every error 
which has usurped the name of Christianity, and obtained 
all the influence which that name gives, — and it is by no 
means slight. This sort of power, the simple principles 
of Christianity, justice, and charity, have most strik- 
ingly displayed, in those recent events which have sug- 
gested our present reflections. How many are there in 
the land of our fathers who regard the late concessions 
to their Catholic brethren as grievous insults to Chris- 
tianity, and direct attacks upon her interests. They 
have fancied themselves justified in their opposition by 
all that they hold dear in the name of religion. And 
thus Christianity has been compelled to grapple with pre- 
judice and ignorance, sanctified, baptized into her own 
august and venerable name. You cannot but feel that 
there is no instance of the Divine Power on the earth or 
in the heavens over our heads so illustrious as this — the 
moral power of truth over the passions of the human soul. 
The sight of it creates within us a deep and penetrating 
sense of God's glory, and we perceive, with strong emotion, 
how it is that the Son of Man comes in the glory of his 
Father. 

But after all the power of God is not his principal glory. 
His character as the Father — his boundless love is his 
brightest attribute. It requires but a few words to show 



15 

how the progress of Christianity, the inward coming of 
Christ is accompanied by the glory of this chief perfection. 
Christianity, wherever it comes, not only announces God 
in so many words as the Infinite and Eternal Father : in 
its revelations respecting man's nature, duty, and destina- 
tion, in its rich provisions for his spiritual welfare and ad- 
vancement, it gives us evidences of a love that infinitely 
transcends the imperfect impulses of parental affection. 
And the more thorough its action upon our own minds and 
upon society around us, the richer experience, the deeper 
impression does it give us of the glory of the Almighty 
Father. Indeed there is no way in which we could per- 
ceive the parental glory of God, but by having spread out 
before us the expressions of his parental love — the gifts of 
his bounty. And what gifts can God bestow richer than 
those which he communicates through the religion of his 
Son ? Does he not therein offer us his own spirit — the 
spirit of goodness, of love, and of truth ? Does he not 
thereby make us partakers of his own nature, and invite us 
to assimilate ourselves to him ? What more could a Father, 
infinitely good, what more, could he do ? And in what 
more expressive way could he illuminate the human mind 
with the blaze of his glory ? All this has he done through 
the Gospel. And magnificent was the promise of the Son 
of Man when he said he would come in the glory of his 
Father. 

As men learn to observe the law of justice and love 
which Christianity promulgates ; as the partition walls by 
which the Christian community is divided are prostrated; 
as we all learn to live together like one family ; as our 
capacities of enlargement and happiness are improved, how 
will the paternal glory of the Most High shine upon the 



16 

world in increasing splendour, attending upon the religion 
of Jesus. No visible seraphs are here to follow in the 
triumph of truth, and to extend their guardian wings over 
human interests. But in the celestial influences of Chris- 
tianity, operating under a thousand modifications, the rapt 
imagination discerns the beautiful attendants of truth, the 
angel protectors of man. 

Once more. Our Lord declares that when he comes in 
the glory of his Father, he will reward every man according 
to his works. In illustration of this part of the prophecy 
I would ask whether it is not the manifest result of Chris- 
tian principles, so far as they are established, to make men 
happy or miserable according to their characters ? When 
the judgments of society shall be determined by Christian 
truth and justice, then the good only will be respected, 
honoured, and prospered, and the bad disgraced and de- 
graded. The great moral distinctions will be made to ap- 
pear. This is the way in which the Son of Man, by means 
of his religion, will judge every one, and render unto him 
according to his works. And let no one think that this is 
a light judgment. There is perhaps no audible voice of 
condemnation — no judgment seat invested with the awful 
symbols of justice. But the judge within the breast, " the 
delegated voice of God," passes sentence, and it is made 
terribly severe because it is supported by every sentiment 
of right, and by the unanimous decision of all men. Chris- 
tianity, by infusing its spirit into the human mind, makes 
the whole moral world the organ of its righteous decrees, 
and Christ and God speak out from the whole spiritual 
creation. The solemnity of the Divine judgment thus 
passed may not now be felt in all its extent ; because Chris- 
tian principles are not fully established, and the general 



17 

sentiment of justice is not yet thoroughly enlightened. But 
as the progress of truth is accelerated, as the Son of Man 
comes in increasing power and glory, men will be more 
and more judged according to their works. The way of 
honour, success and happiness will be thrown open to the 
honest, benevolent and virtuous, while he who disregards 
the claims of right, will be cut off from the respect and 
confidence of the world; yes, and from his own self-re- 
spect, and from all the blessings of which these are the 
means. And what blessing is there of which they are not 
the means ? 

Observe how the recent progress of the cause of religious 
liberty attests the truth of our remarks. A false, artificial and 
unchristian standard of respectability and influence has been 
thrown down. One of the most powerful nations on the face of 
the earth has, by one or two recent acts, declared that men 
shall be judged by their professions no longer. l This man,' 
she has said, l shall not be respected and advanced because he 
holds to a certain form of faith, nor shall that man be excluded 
and depressed because he professes a different belief. This 
is a false and ruinous mode of judging. We will use it no 
longer ; at least, it shall no longer receive the sanction of 
legislative enactment. Henceforth let the prize of honour 
and influence be for all the honest and the good of every 
name and denomination. Yes, the suspected Catholic shall 
henceforth be treated as a man and brother, and rewarded 
or punished by the rules to which all others are bound to 
submit.' In this true and liberal step, oh what a pledge 
have we that at last the judgment seat of pure and uncor- 
rupt Christianity will be erected among men, and the book 
of unerring justice opened thereon ; and before it will be 
•jathered all nations, and they shall be separated, distin- 



18 

guished from one another, the sheep from the goats, not by 
the erroneous standards of profession, but by their works, 
and the Son of Man, speaking through the presiding ge- 
nius of his religion, shall say unto the truly good, "Come, 
ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for 
you from the foundation of the world," receive the honour, 
the happiness, and the immortal hope, which from eternity 
God has determined shall belong only to virtue ; while 
the wicked shall undergo, without alleviation, that salutary 
but indescribable suffering which is the essential property 
of sin. 

Because I have endeavoured to show that the judgment 
of which our Lord speaks commences in this world, with 
the dominion of Christianity, let it not be supposed that no 
judgment will be passed in the world to come. There is 
no room for such an inference. The judgment that be- 
gins here is perfected in the life beyond the grave. 
There the good alone are rewarded, are happy ; the wick- 
ed -miserable. There, there are no obstructions to the 
course of absolute justice. The blessed community of 
heaven is constructed upon the most perfect form. At the 
same time it is the purpose of Christianity to create this 
world anew, and to raise it to some faint resemblance of 
the more perfect state into which we may hereafter be in- 
troduced. And this its purpose is manifested by the ten- 
dency of its principles, by the course of improvement, by 
the recent progress that has been made toward heavenly 
things. 

In conclusion, my friends, how animating is it to watch 
the advancement of the human race, and to feel (as be- 
lievers in Christianity we are permitted to feel) that all the 
improvements which are taking place in the arts, in mo- 



19 

rals, in the science of government — that all these things 
are occurring in the natural and designed progress of 
things ! He who has no lively sense of the providence of 
an Almighty Father (and I know not where such a con- 
viction can be obtained but from Christianity) is compell- 
ed to regard the greatest advances of the mind only as for- 
tunate accidents. The pleasure with which he observes 
them must be destroyed by the apprehension that can- 
not be escaped of endless fluctuations in human affairs. 
He knows not that the tide of ignorance will be forever 
stayed. By some unhappy accident it may roll back again, 
and cover the world with the marks of desolation and misery. 
Whereas we believe that all the improvements that man 
makes, he was designed to make; that it was the purpose 
of God, from the foundation of the world, that we should 
go on ascending in the ways of intelligence and moral and 
intellectual power; that the particular inventions that men 
have fallen upon, to facilitate their advancement, were des- 
tined, in the providence of God, to be attained sooner or 
later — that all these things are the fulfilment of an om- 
nipotent design. With this faith, no fears can depress us. 
No, although much of what has now been gained should 
be lost ; hope, Christian hope would be triumphant still. 
Although clouds and darkness should come back, and set- 
tle over the condition of man, and human things should be 
thrown into disorder and confusion, and the fires of bar- 
barism should again devour the hoarded wisdom of ages, still 
hope would smile, and light her torch at the flames. But 
we have little comparatively to try our faith now. There 
is much, very much to encourage it, in that event which 
has guided our meditations at this time. And oh what 
confident anticipations of good fill our bosoms, when wo 



V 



W 



20 

come back to this broad and happy land of ours, and re- 
collect that it has just been declared in our legislative halls 
(somewhat boastfully perhaps) that " what other nations call 
religious toleration we call religious rights." 

But while our hearts burn within us at the contempla- 
tion of these rejoicing topics, we must not forget that the 
cause of freedom, civil and religious, the interests of truth 
and goodness, and our welfare here and hereafter, depend 
upon ourselves. Truth has no power, abstractly considered. 
Our efforts are the constituted and essential means, by which 
the glorious ends of Christianity are to be accomplished. 
If we fail to be just, liberal, and pure, the cause of justice, 
liberality, and purity fails, and precisely in proportion to 
our deficiency. So long as man is insensible, the progress 
of all truth is checked ; and it will never go on until we 
are aroused to our obligations. Oh let us not then go away 
from this house, and from these reflections, without a so- 
lemn determination to surrender ourselves to the power of 
Christianity — to enrol ourselves among the true, spiritual 
subjects of the Lord Jesus. Let us open our hearts to 
him, that he may enter in by the influence of his religion. 
Let him dwell within us, by the efficacy of his sublime and 
generous truth; and in the whole course of our conduct 
let us resolve anew that we will be guided by liberal and 
just principles; that the spirit of gentleness and love shall 
never forsake our hearts, nor the rule of Christian integrity 
be for one moment forgotten in our transactions with the 
world. That this resolution may be successful, cultivate a 
communion with the source of all perfection. Let the 
thought of God's unbounded benevolence be present habi- 
tually to our minds. Let the Lord Jesus, to whom we owe 
so much, be the pattern by which we form our lives. And 



21 



when this is the spirit of every man, then will the pro- 
mise of the text be fulfilled without qualification, and in 
a sense more elevated than we can now possibly con- 
ceive — then will the Son of Man come in the fulness of the 
divine glory with all his angels. 



THE END 



J 



SIMPLICITY IN THE CHRISTIAN FAITH ALIKE SCRIP* 
TURAL AND POWERFUL. 



A 

SERMON, 

DELIVERED ON THE MORNING OF LORD'S DAY, 
JULY 1, 1827, 

AT THE 

Sctontr SuSrncn&rnt <£i)ttrtt) 

IN 

CHARLESTON, S. C. 



BY MELLISH I. MOTTE, 



[Published l>y request of the Managers of the Charleston 
Unitarian Book Society.] 



,,♦, ,4, ,4y 
TTT 



'(< '}• '}i <J' 'I 1 'J' V 'V '?' 



CHARLESTON. 

PRINTED BY C. C. SEBRING, 
No. 44 Queen -street. 

1827. 



* 



PREFACE. 



The circumstances under which this sermon is publish- 
ed, suggest the propriety of some explanation; and the 
writer is willing to avail himself of the opportunity, to give 
a brief and simple statement of the reasons which have in- 
duced him to wave the long cherished predilections for re- 
tirement, which he was in hopes, when he entered the 
Ministry, he would be able to indulge in that life of humble 
obscurity. He would mitigate the severity of the condem- 
nation which he cannot expect altogether to escape from 
his former associates. He knows too well by experience 
the power of old prejudices, to suppose that his own eman- 
cipation from some of the most popular and deeply-rooted 
will be viewed by all with entire approbation. But he 
hopes for a candid construction from the considerate, who 
remember that as they judge, they shall be judged. 

He was brought up in the Episcopal Church. All his 
early associations attached him to it. It was natural, there- 
fore, when manhood brought with it an inclination to 
preach the Gospel, that he should prefer its Ministry. The 
claims and doctrines of the church he examined, as usual, 
under the bias of this preconceived preference; and, read- 



4 PREFACE. 

ing too exclusively on one side, he of course yielded such 
an assent to its principles as admitted him to its orders. 
This proceeding he is not disposed to justify. Something 
may be said in its excuse on the ground of early habits, 
the influence of connexions, the wish of his family, the ex- 
clusive character of the books to which he had easiest ac- 
cess, and the limited knowledge of theology required for 
ordination. Still the equivocations to which he was dri- 
ven in the construction he felt obliged to put upon the de- 
cidedly Calvinistic articles of his Church, he is prepared 
to acknowledge, deserve the reprobation of every ingenu- 
ous mind. So far as this, however, he was encouraged by 
the example of some of the best and wisest men in both 
the English and American churches; for it is betraying no 
secret to say, that if only those were to throw a stone at 
him who are themselves without sin on this head, he would 
have but few blows to apprehend from his brethren of the 
Episcopal Ministry. 

The first few years after his ordination were spent in the 
wandering duties of a Missionary. This life presented 
but few inducements to go into the laborious investigation 
of profound points of theology. He yielded to the temp- 
tation which has overcome better men, and felt satisfied 
to be thankful for the peaceful enjoyments of his situation, 
without directing much attention to what was calculated 
to blast all his earthly hopes. His conscience did not re- 
proach him, and he trusted that he was as useful as his ta- 
lents enabled him to be. After being settled some time, 
however, he began to be sensible of the narrowing tenden- 
cy to mind and heart of confining his inquiries to one sys- 
tem of doctrines. But to doubt honestly and freely, he 
soon found, was, for himself at least, to be lost at once. 
Christianity stood firmer than ever in his convictions af- 



PREFACE. 5 

ter all his investigations, but his 'orthodoxy' was shaken 
to its lowest foundations. It is due to what he now be- 
lieves to be truth, to state the general principles on which 
he reformed his creed. 

It is allowed that the personal appearance of our Sa- 
viour did not prove him to be the Supreme God. 'He 
was in all things made like unto his brethren' in outward 
form. This stupendous fact then could be learned only 
from his explicit assertion; and when that assertion was 
made by him, the overwhelming astonishment and awe 
produced by it on his disciples would be related in the 
narrative, and would certainly impel them to record at 
least once this astounding declaration. Now where have 
they done so? Throughout the New-Testament, not a 
passage has been found where Christ in direct and unper- 
verted language says any thing like, 'I am Jehovah, as 
much as my Father is Jehovah.' 'I am very and eternal 
God, of one substance, power and eternity with the Father.' 

Patient examination of the original phraseology of the 
New-Testament, satisfied the writer hereof that such a 
doctrine was not taught in it with sufficient distinctness 
to authorize him to preach it as a condition of salvation. 

But from the distorted second-hand representations which 
he had received of the testimony of the early Fathers, he 
still felt confident that Ecclesiastical History was in favour 
of the doctrine. How much was he surprised to find, on 
looking a little nearer, that their testimony obviated the 
greatest difficulty in the Unitarian system, by authorizing 
us to refer the Trinitarian doctrine of the Logos, to the 
Platonic and Gnostic philosophy, which was so much in 
vogue with most of the first learned converts to Christian- 
ity. The unlearned, we have reason to believe, continued 
Unitarian, until the Church gradually submitted to the 
1* 



O PREFACE. 

authority of these speculative philosophers. The writer 
thus found, that he was compelled, with Augustine, to ac- 
knowledge his obligation to Plato for his belief in the Tri- 
nity. 

The result has been, that he felt called upon by con- 
science to leave the E piscopal Ministry. Still he perceived 
the propriety of proceeding with great hesitation in so se- 
rious a change; and he thinks that he must now be acquit- 
ted of precipitation, when, after devoting nine months to 
reflection, inquiry and prayer, he has complied with re- 
quests to preach to a society formed on the scriptural prin- 
ciple that, 'whosoever believeth Jesus to be the Messiah, 
is born of God.' 

Had other motive beside the dictate of conscience been 
wanting to induce him to continue in that vocation to 
which Providence had called him, it might be found in his 
excusable desire not to lead an idle life. From other oc- 
cupations he was precluded by incompetence, and the ap- 
prehensions of those with whom a Unitarian is confessedly 
a proscribed man; 'Habet foenum in cornu; longe fuge.' 

With regard to the publication of this sermon, it is a 
measure of which the writer had not the slightest design 
when it was preached. The first application for it was 
rejected with almost rude decision. He was extremely 
unwilling to do any thing which might be construed into 
vindictive defiance to those with whom he has passed 
some of the happiest hours of his life. Many of them he 
loves as dearly as he can ever expect to love again any 
even of those who may be endeared to him by the sym- 
pathy of more congenial sentiments; for among them are 
almost all those to whom consanguinity and youthful affec- 
tions bind him. Why then should he ungratefully wound 
their partiality more t^ian imperative duty required? Con* 



PREFACE. 7 

troversy too he had professed to deprecate; not from ap- 
prehension for his cause, but the consciousness that his 
temper would not be improved by it. After some time, 
however, it occurred to him that these very considerations 
called for compliance with the request of the publishing 
Committee, for the Sermon is in fact a plea for peace and 
harmony, and by no means a declaration of war. He 
felt himself without excuse on receiving the assurance of 
one, high in authority as an advocate for all that is kind 
and considerate, that 'it could not hurt the feelings of any 
individual in this community, but was well calculated to 
sooth every feeling of asperity in opponents.' 



d 



SERMON. 



1 John v. 1. 
"Whosoever believeth that Jesus is the Christ, is bom of God. u 

Among the blessings of God which in the hands of men 
have sometimes turned to heavy woes, not the least re- 
markable is the prescribed condition of admittance to his 
church. Observe what our heavenly Father requires in 
accordance with the simplicity that reigns in all his works, 
and then turn and see what ignorant man often exacts con- 
formably to the awkward and complicated constitution of 
human systems. God asketh for the heart in its peaceful 
humility. Men too frequently demand the mind perplexed 
and tortured by the unconquerable difficulties of metaphy- 
sical speculation. There is vain mourning, and bitter dis- 
tress in the anxious bosom of many a humble aspirant to 
religion: there is envy and strife, opposition and hatred be- 
tween the churches, whose professed object is the serene 
spirit of pi^ty and love, whose common guide and ruler is 
the Prince of Peace. Whence is the cause? — Men have 
added to the commandments of the Lord; and there may 
be reason to fear, the threat is partially fulfilling which was 
uttered in the vision of St. John, 'If any man shall add un- 
to these things, God shall add unto him the plagues that 



10 SERMON ON 1 JOHN V. 1. 

are written in this book.' May grace from on high, given 
us in the humility of our pretensions and the simplicity of 
our faith, enable us to escape them, and then, 'fear not, little 
flock; for it is your father's good pleasure to give you the 
kingdom.' 

What is the condition of admittance to his kingdom or 
church? What makes us the subjects of Christ? According 
to the Scriptures, simply the belief that Jesus is the Christ, 
the Messiah, the Anointed to office, the Son of God, the 
King of Israel; for all these seem to be equivalent titles, 
used to designate that remarkable personage who had been 
promised to the patriarchs, and foretold by the prophets, 
and who was expected in the world about the very time 
that Jesus of Nazareth appeared. 

I would proceed entirely on scriptural grounds; and I 
beseech you, my friends, to observe that the chief thing 
proposed to our belief in the New-Testament is the official 
authority of Christ, not his personal nature. His follow- 
ers were admitted to his infant church on professing their 
belief in his divine commission, as a messenger from God, 
not on professing their belief, that he was, either the Su- 
preme Jehovah on the one hand, or the human Son of Ma- 
ry on the other. This will appear more strikingly if in 
reading the New-Testament we sometimes substitute the 
word Messiah, which is his more proper official designation, 
in place of the word Christ, which has now come to be used 
almost altogether as his personal name, though it has the 
same meaning with Messiah, one being Greek and the other 
Hebrew, signifying the Anointed; and anointing we know 
was a ceremony used among the Jews when inducting into 
certain offices, particularly those of Prophets, Priests, and 
Kings. 

Hear now the Angel announcing him to the shepherds, 



x 



SERMON ON 1 JOHN V. 1. H 

even at his birth, as* 'a Saviour, which is the Messiah, the 
Lord.' This was the character in which he was acknow- 
ledged and followed by his apostles through every sacrifice. 
Hear Andrew saying to his brother Simon,t 'We have 
found the Messiah, which is, being interpreted, the Christ.' 
Hear Philip communicating this great discovery to Nathan- 
iel,! 'We have found him of whom Moses in the Law, 
and the Prophets, did write, Jesus of Nazareth, the Son of 
Joseph.' Listen to the Saviour himself discoursing with 
the woman of Samaria about the means of attaining eternal 
life, the end of all religion. He says to her,§ 'Whosoever 
believeth in me shall never die. Believest thou this?' Now 
how is her assent expressed? 'Yea, Lord, I believe that 
thou art the Messiah, the Son of God, which should come 
into the world.' What was the faith that was sufficient to 
draw forth a special blessing upon Peter and establish him 
in the rank of an apostle?|| 'We believe and are sure/ 
says he, 'that thou art that Messiah, the Son of the living 
God.' What was the faith on which the Saviour declared 
that he would build his church so that the gates of Hell 
should not prevail against it? What was it but simply this?fl 
'Thou art the Messiah, the Son of the living God.' What 
candidly is the chief and fundamental declaration of the 
whole Gospel? Why was it committed to writing and han- 
ded down to us, containing this assertion so often repeated, 
while we know that many astonishing miracles which were 
wrought are not mentioned in it? Let St. John, the fa- 
vourite and most intimate friend of Jesus, declare the end 
for which he wrote.** 'Many other signs,' he tells us, 'tru- 
ly did Jesus in the presence of his disciples, which are not 
written in this book; but these are written, that ye might 

* Luke ii. 11. t John i. 41. $ 1.45. § XI. 26,27. 

11 John vi. 69. IF XVL 16. 18. ** XX. 30, 31. 



12 SERMON ON 1 JOHN V. 1. 

believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God; and that 
believing ye might have life through his name.' 

And what was it the Apostles preached after their mas- 
ter's death? The book of Acts is the history of the establish- 
ment of the first churches. What does it always exhibit as 
the first essential truth on which they were formed? 
Read it throughout. St. Peter's first sermon converted 3000 
souls. What was the word which they so gladly received? 
This was his conclusion which he urges on them with such 
commanding emphasis;* 'therefore let all the house of Israel 
know assuredly, that God hath made that same Jesus whom 
ye have crucified both Lord and Messiah.' f Philip goes to 
Samaria to build a church. What was his doctrine? In 
one word, 'the Messiah.' In short the Apostles preached 
daily in the temple and in every house; and what was their 
leading doctrine?! 'They ceased not to teach and preach 
Jesus, the Messiah.' But our time forbids farther citation 
of authorities. In fact the variety of testimony to the point 
sets quotation at defiance, and therefore must render it un- 
necessary to you who are familiar with the Scriptures. 
You there see the leading doctrine taught as the foundation 
of our religion is, that Jesus was the Messiah, or what we 
have sufficient reason to believe was understood as a term 
of the same import, the Son of God. This is the faith that 
makes the Christian. This is the faith, simple though it be, 
unpromising as it may appear to him who knows no other 
faith but the profession of the lips, or the languid supposi- 
tion of the fancy, or the abstract and inoperative assent of 
the understanding, this is the faith through which we are 
born of God, and overcome the world. 

But how can these things be? says the enthusiast for 
faith, while in the very question he evinces the doubting 

* Acts ii. 36. f Acts viii. 5. $ Acts v. 42. 



SERMON ON 1 JOHN v. 1, 



13 



disposition of Nicoderaus: How can belief in so simple a pro- 
position account for the prodigious effects ascribed to the en- 
ergy of faith in the scriptures? Now askest thou not this in 
forgetfulness or distrust of the power of the Most High? 
Could not he who formed us, so constitute, or so control our 
faculties, that they should be affected, by any truth which 
he might present, to any degree or result which he might ap- 
point? But such a truth as this must naturally have won- 
derful efficacy, where it is received into the mind unclogged 
by any error and unopposed by any doubt, for it is unbelief 
in any degree that destroys the power of a creed, not the 
small number of articles in it. Now think what this truth 
implies; — a message and such a message, from the throne 
that stands above the universe! Let its tenor be even un- 
known; and still how many overwhelming ideas, how ma- 
ny astounding conceptions, glorious imaginings, thrilling 
hopes, lofty sentiments spring up at the thought, and set to 
work, as to the work of life and death, every principle in 
the soul which feels its solemn import. Let this one fact, 
that a message has arrived from heaven be suddenly com- 
municated with entire conviction to the untaught savage of 
the desert, whose eyes have never been brightened with the 
moral light which blesses us around continually, and then 
away with him for ever to the remotest solitude of his wil- 
derness; and think you that this one idea, in its isolated 
and sublime simplicity, will not command him, the whole 
man, so long as doubt is absent? In his solitary musings 
his soul will feed upon it, till it shall be wholly engrossed 
by the beauty and power of the thoughts that cluster round 
it, and his spirit will grow thereon till it has enlarged itself 
to the boundaries of time and the universe. He would be 
a theologian, and around this one simple truth that blesses 
him, would assemble faith, and hope, and love, God, Hea- 
2 



14 SERMON ON 1 JOHN V. 1. 

ven, Eternity. But what would his little system of divini- 
ty be, compared with the full and satisfying lessons which 
toe have received from the teaching of Jesus? The glori- 
ousness of his hope would be dim indeed beside the assur- 
ance of joy which we have derived from the detailed, expli- 
cit and repeated declarations of him who had the Spirit 
given him without measure. Brethren, you know it is in 
its details that the Gospel has made you blessed. It is the 
application to yourselves of each commanding assertion, 
each touching appeal, each compassionate assurance, each 
tender promise that flowed from the lips of Jesus that has 
made your hearts leap for joy. It is the authority of his 
precepts and the persuasion of his most eloquent example 
that has kept you in the path of duty. Had he but stood 
upon the earth for a little while in cold and unpitying silence, 
and only stretched forth his hand to bend the iron rule of 
nature into acknowledgement of his credentials from the 
skies, that would have been much indeed in the darkness 
wherein the world was groping: for the Messenger sent 
would imply the existence and almost certainly the benevo- 
lent character of him who sent him; and then for ever after 
you would have seen the God and Father of all sitting at 
the head of his creation, and swaying the sceptre of univer- 
sal providence. 

But now you have heard the beloved of the father speak, 
as never man spake before, and you now know, as philoso- 
phy in its loftiest soarings could never know, that your Fa- 
ther in Heaven loves you, with an everlasting love, more 
tenderly than earthly father or mother can, and is watching 
over you, in every step you take, in every breath you draw, 
with a guardian care that will not fail, when the solicitude 
of human affection, the purest or most interested, shall be 
exhausted. He has sent you his Son. Jesus is come your 



SERMON ON 1 JOHN V. 1. 15 

friend, my brethren, if you will have him such. He is come 
to tell you the wonders of his Father's kingdom; to per- 
suade you with most moving earnestness to think sometimes 
of them; to arouse your slumbering moral energies; to 
awake your longing for peace and heaven; to tempt you 
away from sin; to win you to himself; to reconcile you to 
your neglected God, your forgotten Father. Will you not 
believe him when he tells you, that he has removed every 
obstacle that interposed between heaven and earth? By 
the grace of his gospel, the way is open, the path is plain, 
the ascent is easy; all that is wanted is your wish to go, 
your struggle to be free. He has done his part at a heavy 
cost, and the tears that he shed, and the sufferings that he 
bore, and the death that he died for you in his love, pro- 
claim that all is done, save that your hearts may not be 
melted by it to penitence, nor your resolutions braced by 
faith to the requisite energy of endurance and of action, 
through life and through death, in the service of your mer- 
ciful God. What wait you for? Fear you there may be 
bars of adamantine strength across the portals of heaven? 
Has not he said in the name of the most mighty, they shall 
be broken? but you must put forth the arm, nerved by hea- 
venly faith, to the task, and believe it is your sins alone that 
interpose the difficulty. Or weep you in the sorrow of a 
broken heart? Sink you in dismay at the troubles and hard- 
ships that beset your path in life, the perplexities, the tri- 
als that war against your peace? Remember that Jesus is 
from God, and the consolations of his word stand fast for 
ever, the pledges of his love shall never fail. Sustain your 
soul on the promises of his grace, and it shall not be moved. 
His revelation offers you a celestial spirit's wings to raise 
you above the world, and if you will receive them strong in 
faith, unwavering in the conviction that Jesus is the Christ 



1 6 SERMON ON 1 JOHN V. 1. 

of God, and his authority over you supreme, you will expe- 
rience in yourselves and you will prove to the world, that 
he who believeth this is born of God, and he who is born of 
God overcometh the sin and sorrow of the world. 

But now woe to the folly of self-deception in the estimate 
of our compliance with the condition! Sorrow for the mis- 
ery of a most common, but a most fatal delusion, which 
is spreading darkness and the snares of death over some of 
the bright regions of Christendom! Alas for the vanity of 
the heart of man! the sluggishness of uninquiring presump- 
tion! the spiritual complacency, yet affected humility, of 
resting in speculative faith. Faith it is indeed termed; a 
dead faith you may hear it called, but it is in reality no 
faith at all, no true belief, or else it would act itself out. 
Brethren, we may pride ourselves in vapouring through 
the world as champions of the faith, and scorn to doubt, as 
we scorn to listen to opposing argument, but all the time 
every impartial observer may with grief be obliged to doubt 
for us, for lack of those fruits of faith which alone prove it 
genuine. These are the test, and I beseech you be not sa- 
tisfied without them. By these alone may you have un- 
questionable evidence that you do believe, when your belief 
speaks out for itself, with the free and uncontrolled power 
of cheerful habit, in the steady performance of your Chris- 
tian duties. If you believe that Jesus is the Christ, you are 
born of God and overcome the world, for if you truly and 
deeply and undoubtingly believe this, you feel that when he 
commands, it is God commands, and you dare not turn 
away at the peril of your souls from that voice which shakes 
the heavens and the earth. Receiving him, we receive 
him who sent him; and then we cannot, must not, will 
not sin; we are born of God, and the world is at our feet 



SERMON ON 1 JOHN V. 1. 17 

Thanks be to God who giveth us the victory, through our 
Lord Jesus Christ. 

But I would now humbly confine your attention to the 
singleness of the profession indispensable to Christian com- 
munion. He that believeth that Jesus is the Christ is born 
of God. The acknowledgement of his divine authority 
constitutes a Christian, as far as belief is concerned. 
Other points are of great, but yet of secondary importance: 
his miracles, prophecies, resurrection, &c. are subservient 
to this conviction; they prove him to be the Messiah. All 
who hold this, if God be true, hold the head. 

Among other advantages of the simplicity of this creed, 
we have to thank God for being furnished in it with an ea- 
sy and intelligible principle of union which might bind all 
Christendom together, round the globe and through all 
tine. We know who is a brother in Christ. I ask not 
assent to perplexing dogmas expressed in the language of 
men. I inquire not whether you have studied metaphy- 
sics. I do not reservedly draw back, until I have taken 
the gage with ray measure of the length and breadth and 
depth of your theological system, and weighed in my bal- 
ance the results of your inquiries in what does not touch 
the Supreme authority of the Gospel. But, brother, belie- 
vest thou in Christ? and I take you by the hand, and we 
are one already in what lies nearest to our hearts. 

It is on this principle, that the communion table of this 
church is spread for all who love our Lord Jesus Christ. 
In this, it is known we differ from many churches; which, 
not satisfied with the simple creed that appears to us so con- 
formable to scriptural and primitive usage, in addition to 
the belief that Jesus is the Christ, require assent to more 
than 300 propositions. While we pretend not to impeach 
their motives, and believe them conscientious, we must still 

2* 



18 SERMON ON 1 JOHN V. 1. 

think the ill effects of this are obvious, and not so obvious 
as certain. The morose and exclusive temper is confirmed 
by conscientious illiberality; and the meek and amiable 
spirit of Christian candour is bound by the principles of its 
church to needless fears for a brother whom it cannot con- 
vince, and has to endure the melancholy and somewhat 
paradoxical pain of pitying in despair, where still it pre- 
tends not to impute a crime. Surely the world, with its 
selfish interests and jealous rivalries, drives men far enough 
apart: why force the gentle religion of peace to come into 
the unholy tumult, and with sanctions which conscience 
dares not disavow, aggravate and multiply the hostilities 
of breasts already inflamed with demoniac passions? Let 
us at least have one subject on which all can be at peace. 
Let us have one interest in which we may feel that we are too 
deeply concerned in common not to harmonize in the pur- 
suit. Let us have one quiet place to which we may resort 
without losing the temper of the Christian; and there, 
throwing aside resentment, animosity and strife, kindle and 
cherish universal love, as the children of the same good fa- 
ther, travelling along the same flinty road, directing our 
weary 'footsteps to the same everlasting mansion of rest 
and joy. 

This is what you have aimed at, my hearers, in the con- 
stitution of your society: and I congratulate you on the 
privileges you enjoy; privileges with which providence has 
blessed you without requiring the heavy price of a sudden 
disruption of all the ties and associations which naturally 
endear that house of God to our hearts, to which the foot- 
steps of our happy childhood have followed those whom we 
first loved, and in which we have left their tombs and me- 
morials to see them no more. Your gift is peculiar, and 
you will not fail to remember that, to whom much has been 



SERMON ON 1 JOHN V. 1. 19 

given, of them will proportionably much be required. I 
feel called upon on this occasion to trouble you with but 
one suggestion, which yet you may think the principles 
which distinguish you render peculiarly unnecessary. The 
Churches around repel you from their fellowship. This 
cannot but be a greater evil to them than to you; for from 
it may be expected, at least in some degree, the unsocial in- 
fluences that make religion unamiable. But though you 
are free from the first action of such feelings, you may be 
provoked to the unworthy and equally pernicious reaction 
of resentful retaliation. Be on your guard. It least be- 
comes you to recompense evil for evil. It is particularly 
incumbent on you, if it be possible, as much as lieth in you, 
to live peaceably with all men. Dearly beloved, avenge 
not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath. Trust 
in him who judgeth righteously, and be not overcome of 
evil, but overcome evil with good. Recollect, the opinions of 
men, however erroneous, however illiberal they may seem to 
us, are still a sacred thing, a privileged sanctuary not to be 
profaned by angry intrusion. Should one of us, therefore, 
see reason to adopt the sentiments of those who differ from 
US) — and it seems but fair to say the same, should one of 
them come over to us, — regard him with the mild aspect 
which becomes the consciousness of our own frailty and ig- 
norance. His motives you cannot know. His heart is open 
to but one eye. To his own Master he standeth or falleth; 
who art thou that judgest the servant of another? For what 
he does he knows that he must give account before the judg- 
ment seat of God: why should men oppress him with their 
premature inquisition and impatient reviling? Brethren, 
we have something else to do besides passing sentence on 
one another here: let us thank God, this invidious duty is 
not imposed on us. 



20 SERMON ON 1 JOHN V. 1. 

With regard to those, from whom we lament that we are 
separated by opinions which we dare not hazard our souls 
by relinquishing, were it not like presumption in such as I 
am, it would give me pleasure to bear most willing testi- 
mony to the many and great excellencies I have found 
among them. Notwithstanding what I think, I am war- 
ranted by experience in terming the ungracious social influ- 
ence of their system, I have experienced in them, with a 
frequency to which I delight to recur, the exercise of vir- 
tues such as the world cannot exceed, and of which deep 
Christian piety alone could be the spring. Shall we not 
love such Christians wherever they may be found? And 
shall we not look up to him who maketh his sun to rise on 
the evil and on the good, and practise the more difficult 
and more peculiarly Christian grace of charity, even to the 
uncharitable? Life is not long enough to be wasted 
in contention. While we are inflaming our hearts with the 
rancour of unhallowed disputation, eternity stands waiting 
for us; — stands waiting! do we say? It comes sweeping 
on nearer and nearer continually, and we silently and im- 
perceptibly draw nigh to its inevitable solemnities. Breth- 
ren, the time is short: — to our task then, to our task for 
heaven, 'as ever in our great taskmaster's eye.' It may be 
well for us to remember, for us who are to stand or fall, 
when worlds shall be passing away, by the judgment of the 
meek and lowly Jesus, — that the only spirit to which he 
gives his sanction is the spirit of the lamb and of the dove, 
the emblems of his grace. It may be well to bear in mind, 
that he rebuked the impetuous zeal of Peter, when he drew 
his sword even in his Lord's defence; and when he would 
prove his fitness for the office of highest apostle in his 
church, he asked him not, 'wilt thou fight for ray name?' 
but gently, 'Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me? ? So, 



SERMON ON 1 JOHN V. 1. 21 

Christians, happy will it be for us, if we can truly give the 
answer of the apostle, 'Lord, thou knowest that I love 
thee;' thnu knowest that I love thee and have shown my 
love, in loving all those of whom thou saidst, 'Verily I say 
unto you, inasmuch as you have done an act of kindness 
to one of the least of my brethren, you have done it unto 
me.' Happy, thrice happy shall we be to receive this 
commendation from him on that day when 'three words 
spokpn in charity shall be found to avail us more than a 
library of controversy.' Controversy! let it be with our 
own hearts, with our evil propensities; against the dexte- 
rous logic of the sin that doth so easily beset us; against 
the insidious pleas of base self-interest; against the elo- 
quent rhetoric of impetuous passions. 

Then shall we be saved, when the Lord shall have his 
controversy with the wicked. Then shall we be saved al- 
ready; saved from the dominion of sin that worketh death, 
the great salvation which Jesus came to effect. 

Friends, strive for this, and the peace of God be with 
you in your efforts. 



SERMON ON 1 JOHN V. 1. 



NOTE. 



As the argument in the first part of the Sermon receives the 
strongest support from the proof, that the 'Messiah' and 'the Son 
of God' are convertible titles, and were so understood as to be used 
indiscriminately by the Evangelists; let the authority of profes- 
sor Stuart of Andover, decide the question. He must certainly 
be allowed the praise of impartiality and learning on such a sub- 
ject. "It is unnecessary to seek for a sense wholly new, of the 
phrase Son of God when it is applied to Christ." "The phrase 
has a sense analogous to that which it bears, when Adam is said 
to be the Son of God, or when all men are represented as the 
children of God." "But though I admit that Christ is called the 
Son of God, on account of a nature derived from God; yet I do 
not think this to be the only or the predominant reason, why this 
appellation is given to him. He is called Son, also, because he is 
the Messiah, the Anointed One, the King and Lord of the uni- 
verse, exalted over all creatures and all worlds." "By his resur- 
rection he was Son of God, on account of a reproduction or re- 
animation; as well as constituted Son, by being placed in the ex- 
alted state of Messiah, or made head over all things to the Church. 
That the sacred writers do apply to him the title Son of God, be- 
cause he is the Messiah, i. e. the Christ or Anointed One; in other 
words, because he is the King, Head, or Lord of all things, in his 
capacity as the Messiah or Saviour; that after all, this is the prin- 
cipal or predominant reason for giving him this appellation, will 
appear, as it seems to me, from the following passages. When the 
Saviour appealed to his disciples and asked them, 'Whom say ye 
that I am?' Simon Peter answered and said, 'Thou art the Mes- 
siah, the Son of the living God.' Mat. xvi. 15, 16. In Mark viii. 
29, the same reply is recorded in the following words: 'Thou 
art the Christ or Messiah.' Now if 'Son of God' which is men- 



SERMON ON 1 JOHN V. 1. 23 

tioned by Matthew, conveyed a meaning different from that of 
Messiah, why should Mark omit so important an addition to that 
part of Peter's reply which he has recorded? Luke has given us 
a form different from both the others; is. 20, 'Thou art the Mes- 
siah of God ' I say a different form; for this is all. This confes- 
sion Jesus highly approved, pronounced his blessing upon it, and 
then 'charged his disciples that they should tell no man that he 
was Jesus the Messiah.' That he was the Christ or the Messiah, 
then, appears to comprehend the essential part of Peter's confes- 
sion, and to convey the same idea to the mind of Jesus and his 
disciples, as to say that he was the 'Son of the living God.' 
The parallelism indeed is so apparent, in the very mode of the 
expression, as well as from the nature and genius of the Hebrew 
language, that we can hardly doubt that the one phrase is, in this 
case, equivalent to the other. But if we doubt that Son of God 
is here equivalent to Messiah or King of Israel, those doubts may 
be removed by further examination of the Jewish usus loquendi. 
'Rabbi,' said the Israelite without guile, to his divine Master, 
'Thou art the Son of God, thou art the King of Israel.' John i. 
49. As in the case above, Son of God is explicative of Christ; so 
here King of Israel is explicative of Son of God; and if so, then 
the two phrases are substantially equivalent to each other." One 
more specimen of his reasoning; "The Sanhedrim, who examined 
Jesus previously to his condemnation, asked him, 'Art thou the 
Christ?' He replied by saying, that the Son of Man should hereaf- 
ter be seated on the right hand of the power of God. They repeat- 
ed the question with earnestness; 'Art thou then the Son of God? 
Here it is evident that the same question, so far as the essential 
meaning of it is concerned, is repeated in the second instance as 
in the first. In like manner the high priest, during the trial of 
Jesus, said, 'I adjure thee by the living God that thou tell us, 
whether thou art the Christ, the Son of God.' Here both expres- 
sions meet in the same question; as in the case above, they follow- 
ed each other in different questions; and both are plainly designed 
to make the inquiry, Art thou the promised, the expected Messiah 
of the Jews? Surely the high priest and the Sanhedrim did not 
mean to ask Jesus, whether he was eternally and necessarily be- 
gotten of God." See many more of these parallelisms examined 
to the same result in Stuart's eighth Letter to Dr. Miller. 






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